


When Arya Rides Into Town

by Angelfire2021



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya-centric, Assassin Arya, Assassination, Badass Arya, Death, F/M, Faceless Arya, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Magic, POV Arya Stark, Sandor Clegane Swears, Sassy Arya Stark, Sexual Violence, Swordfighting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence, Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelfire2021/pseuds/Angelfire2021
Summary: The great war is over. Westeros is trying to recover. But that leaves opportunities for the unscrupulous to carve out their domains and take advantage. King Jon doesn’t have enough troops to send to defend every free citizen of the realm. So he needs someone he can call on to help keep order.Many would see her as just a girl riding a pony. Easy prey to those who have endured the winter. But they don’t realise who she is. And when they do they’d wish they met the Night King instead.





	1. Trouble on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> The main Characters or world don't belong to me. They belong to Mr Martin :)

Arya jumped down from her pony as soon as she heard the screams. It was the scream of a terrified woman. Keeping hold of the reigns, she led her chestnut mount of the road and into the woods allowing the dense foliage to swallow them both. After securing the pony, Arya had purchased in the previous town she moved quickly between the trees before climbing a small rise. The shouts and screams intensified as she dropped to her belly and crawled to the top of the slope where she could peer at the scene unfolding below.

There was a cart on the road, ramshackle and need of repair, and pulled by a despondent half-starved donkey who was motionless while its owners were under attack. A short bald man was wearing a tattered white shirt pleading for his life while tied to one of the trees. While Arya couldn’t see the face of the man who taunted him with a long knife, she could imagine its evil sneer and cold eyes. He was probably grinning as he ripped the shirt open with the blade.

“Leave us alone we don’t have anything.” The tied man kept moaning. 

“Then we’ll take our payment another way.” But the thug tormenting the man laughed. “Won’t we Jacob?”

Arya shuffled further forward. Pushing aside thick green thistles so she could see another of the men whose hideously scarred face was clearly visible as he tossed a woman to the ground. Her clothes were already half ripped from her body. While the man might not have been wearing Lannister colours Arya his clothing and the bits of scavenged armour he was wearing marked them all as deserters from the Lannister army.

Another man climbed onto the cart looking to see what he could steal. It was a scene so typical in Westeros since winter had begun to recede. As people tried to return to the homes they’d abandoned ahead of the Great War, they found themselves set upon by those who sought to take advantage of the chaos and confusion to steal what they wanted for themselves. It was especially common to see those who had served the disgraced families, such as the Lannisters hunting the innocent because they had nothing left to lose but their pathetic lives.

Arya slipped her bow off her shoulder but wasn't sure if she would be able to shoot from her vantage point and safely kill the attackers. Branches of fresh green leaves and olive bushes which had survived the winter all swayed in the gentle breeze that ruffled Arya’s hair. They all meant it was going to be difficult to get a clean shot.  
As she examined the ground sloping towards where the assault was taking place the heavyset man who’d climbed onto the cart. He gave a yelp of triumph which was followed by the shriek of a young girl.

“Look what I’ve found.” The man hauled the girl off her feet by the back of her dress. She was more than ten years old with scruffy blond hair and grubby clothing. Her arms flapped like windmills as she tried to squirm away from her captor  
Arya slithered forward on her belly.

There was enough noise as the child continued to shriek and her mother and cried out demanding they let the girl go. The man was almost howling as he tried to force his way out of the bounds. Any sound Arya made slipping between the trees was easily masked.

While Arya knew she couldn't stop every evil act or wrongdoer she came upon as soon as she saw the man with the child this became a situation she wasn’t going to walk away from. Her purpose in The Reach might be compromised by getting involved but what would be the point if she let this family be tortured by Lannister lovers.

The man and woman were both screaming and struggling while the hooded mad on the cart was dangled the girl over the edge threatening to toss her to the floor if they didn’t do as they were told.

The woman complied, no longer resisting as the thug stood over her tore off more of her clothes. He began unbuckling his belt as he sank to his knees between her legs.  
“That’s it, honey. Lie back for papa.”

The bald ruffian next to the man who was tied to the tree gave a hideous laugh and held his knife at the man's groin. “I’ll cut it off if you don’t shut the fuck up.”  
“Let him scream.” The man holding the girl growled. “Then maybe I can have some fun with this little one.”  
Holding the girl even higher the large man pushed his hand under her dress. Arya could see the terrified girl sobbing. The disgusting look of pleasure on the man's face made Arya sick. She slowly removed an arrow from her quiver. She wanted to shoot the man on the cart. But it would mean him letting go of the girl, and she would no doubt be hurt as she tumbled onto the ground.

Choosing her target, Arya stepped out from behind a tree, brought the arrow up to her cheek and loosened. There was no shout of pain from the man on his knees over the woman as the shaft ripped through his neck. Instead, there was a strangled gurgle, his hands reaching to grip his throat in vain as his life and blood drained away. He slumped forward on top of the stricken woman.

Moments later another arrow flew from Arya's bow before anyone could react. The thug holding the knife to the father's groin looked down in surprise at the shaft protruding from his chest.

"Take your filthy hands off that girl" Arya stepped further into the open making sure she was visible to the man on the.

“Put your bow down girl, or I’ll kill this fucking little bitch.” The man removed his hand from under her dress and grabbed a dagger from his belt. He held it to her throat while continuing to hold her over the edge of the wagon.

The ruffian she’d shot in the chest slumped onto his backside holding the arrow, but Arya knew she’d have to put another one into him to finish him off.

“Put the girl down.” Arya trained her bow on the large mad. Though he was wearing a few pieces of armour, there was plenty of exposed areas to hit. “If you do I’ll let you go. If you don't then you’re going to meet your gods.”

She held the man's gaze and any thought in his head that she was just a girl and could be easily intimidated vanished. Arya watched his eyes dart between his two friends and could tell he weighed up his options.

“Harm the girl, and you die.” 

“How do I know you won't kill me anyway.”

“You don't,” Arya replied. “But its better odds than me shooting you right now.”

The man continued to stare at her. She could see the arm holding the girl was shaking now. He was getting tired, and he would either have to let her go or at least bring her back onto the wagon.

“Put down your bow or all cut her fucking throat.” As Arya predicted the man had moved the girl, bring her into the cart directly in front of him. Her feet were now on one of the pieces of furniture, and while the dagger was at her throat, there would be no chance of her falling. 

The man never moved from the moment Arya loosened the arrow until it struck him in the centre of his face.

Arya’s bow might have been short and not as powerful as the longer bows that soldiers often used, but the short distance meant the arrow drove right into the man’s skull and lodged into his brain. Dead in an instant, his arms fell away from the girl as she collapsed onto the wagon.

The girl stood in total shock.

“What's your name?” Arya shouted.

“Lisa.” the girl stammered her deep blue eyes fixed on Arya’s  
“Cover your eyes, Lisa.”

Lisa gave Arya puzzled look, but Arya kept her gaze on the girl until she did as she was told. Wasting no time Arya placed her bow back over her shoulder, stepped over to the thug groaning on the floor with the arrow in his chest, and removing her Valerian dagger from her belt she slashed the bastard man across his throat.


	2. The Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having saved the family Arya now has a way to sneak into the town.

Arya sat next to the girl in the back of the cart as they made their way towards the town, trying to make it before nightfall. They’d tarried for a long while on the side of the road as the family recovered from their ordeal. Arya had freed the man before attending the shocked woman, as the sobbing daughter threw herself at the woman.

While the family all held clung on to each other Arya used her pony to drag the corpses of the three men deep into the woods. By the time the next set of travellers passed them it looked as the family halted their journey for a rest. Unless someone looked carefully at the floor and saw the blood mingled with mud, there was no evidence of the altercation. But since most folks were trying to keep to themselves and concentrate on eking a life out what was left after the great war, then it wasn’t something that gave Arya concerns.

She’d searched the bodies, relieving them of a decent amount of coin, even stashing their weapons and decent pieces of armour on the cart. Arya knew they’d be able to sell them for a few more coins or swap them for precious food. It hadn’t taken much for Arya to persuade them to get on their way. The town they headed fort Arya knew to have its own problems which meant it wasn’t a great place for the family to be, but it was undoubtedly better than staying in the open overnight. The coins from the three corpses would be enough for them to spend a night or two in a tavern and eat well.

After profuse thanks and offering Arya what little food they had she’d responded by asking to travel with them the rest of the way. A prospect that seemed a relief to the parents and excite Lisa. Though they were surprised when she asked if she could wear some of the mother’s clothes changing out of the brown leather tunic was wearing. It turned out the family had clothes which used to belong to their eldest daughter. She had been about Arya’s height and lost in the great war. While Arya felt terrible about using something that was so precious to them it was an opportunity she couldn’t turn down.

Riding on the cart dressed in a blue and white dress that smelt of mould and itched like crazy Arya was pleased she had found a way to enter the town undetected.

Not that she expected anyone to recognise her as the legendary Arya Stark, but it would have been more difficult to explain why she why a girl was entering the town alone. Travelling with the family was perfect, and they seemed more than happy to pretend she was their daughter.

Lisa had hugged her declaring she had a new sister. Arya hadn’t the heart to tell her that it would only be for a short time. The little girl’s life in the world was going to be hard enough so it seemed kinder to let her have a few days of joy while she could.

The shadows had lengthened with the sun sinking below behind the tallest of the forest trees when they neared the outskirts of the town. To the right, the trees began to thin a little, so they could see the immense River Maunder that watered the Reach. While the Reach seemed to be one of the first Kingdoms recovering from the Great War, the lands were steeped in lawlessness since the fall of house Tyrell. The Kingdom was swarming with remnants of the Lannister’s who had fled to a place they thought to both refuge and a place to begin again. While Cersei may be dead, and most of the family members slain, there were those who’d scattered like cowards in the face of the Night King’s army who devious enough to find where a place where they could attempt to re-exert their power.

A wall encircled the half of the town not pressed up against the river bank. Arya could see it was in a state of disrepair and there was only the odd sentry manning the three watchtowers. The small castle was on the south side of the town looking out across the river where it widened and provided protection on three sides.

 As the wagon approached a gatehouse which seemed to be lacking a gate the family were greeted with callous disregard. There were a few people before them on foot who passed through with their baskets filled with berries, though Arya was sure she’d seen them place something in a wooden box near the foot of the entrance. A payment for passing unmolested no doubt.

Peering between Lisa parents, Arya watched the guards with keen eyes. They wore armour that looked as though it had been cobbled together from the battlefield. One had hold of his broadsword, leaning against it in a way no real soldier would. As the waggon pulled up, it was clear the sword was notched and in a poor state of repair.

Arya wondered whether there was a working smithy. Or were these men just not bothered with basic weapon maintenance.

“What business do you have in Bitterbridge.”

“We are passing through on our way to Old town.” The father said in an unsteady voice. Arya sat back down, leaning against the back of the cart with Lisa next to her.

“What you carrying?”

“My family and what little goods we have.”

Arya approved of his words. She expected the guards would ask for a fee to let them through and wondered if they were true town guards or those loyal to the arrogant bastard who was rumoured to have taken over the castle.

It was Arya was entering Bitterbridge. There weren’t enough troops to send to every castle where some common thug had commandeered to make it their home and lord it over the townsfolk who lived there. But Arya knew it wasn’t always an army you needed to restore order. Only there were nasty rumours about what this particular Lord was up to which King Jon had wanted to be investigated immediately.

“Let’s have a look then.” The guards started taking more interest, and two of them walked down either side of the cart peering over the edge.

“Please, we have little.” The mother said. “We just want to find lodgings for the night and go on our way.”

“Lodgings cost money.” The at the front of the cart announced. “You must have some gold then.”

“And daughters.” One of the other two examining the cart pulled himself higher, so his round, bearded face was visible to Arya and Lisa. The young girl burrowed herself into Arya’s side.

“A pretty one too.” The bearded man grinned. His teeth her black and rotten.

“Looks more like a boy.” The guard round the other side said. “And the cart is full of junk.”

Arya thought the father was probably bristling at their worldly possessions being called as junk, but he wisely kept his counsel.

“Pretty enough for me.” The bearded guard hauled himself up even further, so he could reach into the cart towards Arya. She batted the hand away tempted to twist the grubby appendage until it his wrist snapped.

“Aye well, your standards are fucking low.” Shouted the guard at the front. “Two gold to enter with your family or be on your way.”

“That’s too much.”

“Maybe they haven’t got any money.” One of the guards moved to the back of the cart still poking among the possession as if hoping to find some hidden heirloom. “Fuck all back here.”

“Maybe a go on the daughter then.” The bearded bastard kept pawing towards Arya, but she shrank out of his way.

“Which one you sick fuck.” The man at the back laughed before moving around to join his bearded companion.

“We can pay.” The father said. “But not that much surely, we need to pay lodgings.”

“Maybe Gunther will look after your daughters for you.” The guard at the front said. “He could keep them warm through the cold night. Couldn’t you Gunther.”

“I would that.”

Arya wanted to stick her dagger in the bearded man’s eye to teach him a lesson. She tried to steady her breathing and keep calm but readied herself in case she needed to act.

“One gold piece.” The father said. It was still robbery, and Arya vowed she would get the money back.

“Two or you can fuck off.” There was the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

Now she decided she would pick the money off their dead bodies

“Okay, we’ll pay.”

Arya saw the disappointed look on the bearded one as he let himself down and moved back to the front.

Fee paid, the cart rolled on underneath the crude gate tower into the town. Like the walls Arya could see the dwellings inside were falling to ruin as the long tendrils of winter had reached south buildings generally accustomed to warmer weather had suffered. The rapid thaw that had followed the defeat of the Night King had left its toll on the dirt roads that crisscrossed the town with many of them heavily rutted forcing the father to drive slowly to avoid the cart tipping over.

Arya soon began to pay attention to the townsfolk and the way they carried themselves. It was noticeable how they ignored the newcomers, going out of their way to avoid looking at the family. She pressed up against the side of the cart, looking out to see if anyone would return her curious gaze. Instead, folk lowered their heads and hurried about their business.

It was as Arya expected. A town been beaten into submission. A population fearful of strangers and each other.

“I would leave this place as soon as you can in the morning,” Arya said moving between the mother and father.

The man nodded in agreement. “This is not the friendly town it used to be.”

“They’re not friendly times,” the mother agreed. “Sometimes I wished we’d stayed where we were.”

“Why didn’t you?” Arya asked.

“They are desperate out for people to study as Maesters.” The father said as he pulled the cart towards the large Inn that dominated the buildings around it. A stable boy rushed to help by taking the reins of the sturdy donkey that had earned a good night’s rest. Arya’s pony, who had been tied to the back of the cart and trotted on behind was then also led away.

“There are rumours of plague in parts of Westerns and with many Maesters having been lost in the Great War, they replacements. I was considered a healer in my town. But there is nothing left there now but a few ruins and families like hours trying to scratch a living.”

Arya had heard the plague was more than just a rumour. It was though it was a final curse from the Night King to let loose the plague upon the already weakened people of Westerns. Towns and cities were locking their doors against outsiders, and those that followed the Lord of Light were burning men, women and children they believed to have been afflicted.

It was another trouble to keep Jon busy as he tried to rule the kingdom.

“Will you stay with us tonight?” Lisa asked. Clinging to Arya’s dress.

“Maybe.” Arya patted the girl on the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments so far. I'm going to look to post every Sunday from now on with the occasional one mid week.


	3. Serving Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets a job to do some snooping. Some of the customers aren't very nice

While many of the townsfolk didn’t want to speak to strangers, or each other in some cases, within the Black Moon Inn there were no such acts of bashfulness. To Arya, it would’ve been reasonable to mistake Bitterbridge as a thriving town by the amount of ale and wine flowing and the coin being spent.

The family had secured a compact room in the Inn for the night. Though the cost had made caused the father to pale and mutter about how they would run out of money before reaching Oldtown.

Arya paid for her own room while enquiring about work in the town. As she’d hoped the Innkeeper, a stereotypical rotund gentleman with a sweaty bald head desperately needed help in the main bar. Especially from pretty girls. Arya tried to look bashful and played down her experience when they asked her if she had served food before. She didn’t mention her previous experience serving food to lascivious men who treated their women as mere playthings.

While the Black Moon Inn didn’t fill Arya with as much hatred as had the Fray’s castle, it was still a maze of horny men with grubby hands often snaking out to grab a handful of whatever they could. Arya was already adept of swinging her hips and legs in ways that could avoid as much of the groping as possible, but the dress she wore didn’t afford her the agility she was used to. Each time a hand stretched her way she imagined slicing off the fingers with her Valerian dagger. The only shame was that it was safely stowed in her room.

 One middle-aged fat bastard, who managed to grab her hips and haul her into his lap, found a moment later his wrist twisted in a way he was sure was going to snap. Arya simply smiled, telling him if he ever touched her again she would break both his wrists like twigs, before she rose asked the others around the table if needed any more drinks, and moved back among the crowd.

She didn’t have any more trouble from the fat man his friends for the rest of the night.

As Arya passed among the raucous tables carrying giant tankards of frothing ale she kept her ears open for information that might help her understand the situation in the town. When delivering bowls of steaming venison stew with thick lumps of vegetables, Arya would tarry for a few moments asking those at the table where they were from and if they had any tales of the great war. She found it easy to play the innocent peasant girl, and easy to slide away if they were more interested in her body conversation. Which was the case more often than not.

But there were those who treated her with a modicum of respect. Probably hoping their sparkling wit and tales of heroic deeds would charm her into their beds for the night. It was from those patrons she learned how many soldiers were taking refuge in a town which afforded them protection and work. The work took the form of roaming the roads and rivers around the town to collect taxes from whoever they found. There were rumours that despite the defeat of the Night King another winter would soon be upon them and unless food and supplied were hoarded the people would starve.

Winter returning, and the dead with them was a common theme Arya had heard while travelling in the south lands of Westeros and it was becoming obvious there was an enterprising leader taking advantage of the fear such a rumour caused to line their own pockets. The new Lord in the castle served the Lord of Light and promised to defend the people when the dead walked again.

Few in these parts had seen the dragons fly or knew of King Jon. They just wanted to survive and be left alone.

“Be careful of that table.” One of the other serving girls, Elsa, warned Arya as they both gathered trays of meat and bread. “Bastards the lot of them.”

Arya glanced across the room to where her new friend pointed. Four serving girls took turns taking the food and ale out to the customers or clearing and washing in the back. Most of the time Arya was out paired with Elsa, a pretty blond girl who lived in the town with her mother.

After Elsa had seen how Arya handled the fat bastard who’d grabbed her, she’d demanded to learn how to do such a trick. Knowing the benefits of making a friend Arya had promised she would. Elsa had worked at the Inn for a few years after her father had been killed in the war.

“They guard the gates, don’t they?” Arya thought she recognised two of the men as those who’d forced the family to pay for their entry into the town.

“They all do.” Elsa nodded, balancing the tray on her arm while gripping two medium so tankards in one hand. Arya had been impressed by how she managed to weave through the tables without dropping her load while deftly avoid getting groped. “Bastards raped Fran. She used to work here. Won’t leave her house now.” They both passed through to the men and deposited their trays.

One of them turned and grinned at Arya, obviously recognising the girl while she remembered his disgusting yellowed and broken teeth. Even from a few feet away she wanted to wretch as his rancid onion-laden breath reached her nose.

“I know this fine filly.” His hands snaked out just as Arya was putting down the food she carried. She felt the hand grab her buttocks and gritted her teeth before smashing the plates onto the wooden table and trying to pull away. He held her in a firm grip. “How much are you then girl? Might get your family a few nights of free food if you come to my room and play.”

“I don’t think so.” Arya span around, and though his hand lost its grip on her behind he still retained a hold on the material of her dress, stopping Arya from making a clean getaway. Elsa had moved away but came back to grab Arya’s hand trying to help.

“Take your hands of her Baldus.” Elsa hissed.

“Are you going to make me girl.” The rotten toothed man cackled, and the three others joined in the laughter.

“Maybe we could treat Little Elsa here.” One of the others said. “Like we did her friend.”

Elsa stepped over to the man and slapped him across his pocked marked face. A grin was replaced by a snarl Arya knew meant trouble. The man rose to his full six feet in height, flexing his arms inside his brown leather tunic as if to emphasise his strength.

Elsa shrank back.

“You’re going to fucking regret that girl.”

“Not here Franco.” Another of the men, dark-skinned and with a shaved head, nodded to the other patrons looking around at the commotion. “Settle it another time.” The dark-skinned man winked at his pockmarked friend. Arya realised the one named Baldus had let go of her skirt allowing her to back away.

Both the girls hurried back to the serving station.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Elsa’s voice panicked, and Arya could see she was shaking.

“He deserved it.”

“You don’t understand.” The girl collapsed onto a chair just inside the kitchen. “They own this town, they can take what they want.”

“But they didn’t do anything.”

“They won’t. Not here.” Elsa shook her head. “This place makes too much money for the Lord. He won’t have trouble here, or anywhere public. But they know where I live. They’ll want to deliver a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Though Arya could already imagine what sort of lesson those bastards might want to teach.

“You’ve got to do what you are told here.” Elsa glanced around as though expecting someone to overhear. “The Lord demands so much of us and if we don’t deliver we get taught a lesson.”

“Not a pleasant one I presume.”

“They take what they want here Arya. If I were you, I’d get your family away in the morning and never come back. I shouldn’t have hit him” Elsa buried her hands in her face.

Arya wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She hadn’t told Elsa the truth about her own origins. “Don’t worry about them. Cowardly bastards. Once someone stands up to them, they’ll piss themselves.”

“No one will stand up to them.”

“You might be surprised.” Arya patted her on the back. “Come on, Helga is shouting at us to get back to work. Don’t worry Elsa they won’t touch you I promise.”

As Arya continued serving she kept her eye on Baldus and his henchmen. They seemed settled in for a heavy session of drinking even when others were leaving. The one named Franco would keep looking at Elsa and whispering to his friend. Arya could imagine what disgusting things they were talking about.

When it came time for the Inn to close Arya took Elsa aside and whispered her own plans in her ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for the Kudos and comments so far. Please keep them coming as provides cool motivation. I'm happy to hear about mistakes too!! It all goes to help me writer better stories for you the reader


	4. A surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nasty guards wait for poor Elsa. Will she get through the night unharmed
> 
> WARNING - Some may well consider the following passage controversial

“Getting a fucking move on,” Baldus shouted.

“Fuck off.” Franco continued pissing against the outside wall of the back of the smith. It was dark, and there was no one working at night, but that wouldn’t have stopped Franco anyway. He didn’t really give a fuck what the people thought any more. Having fought against the most horrific things he’d ever seen in the Great War to defend those that too scared to take up arms against the winter army. He’d killed those who had once been friends before the touch of the white walkers had turned them into members of the undead army. He’d rather have thrown himself into the dragon fire than let one of the blue-eyed bastards turn him.

While he would never admit it to anyone, Franco had pissed his pants when the army had first swept across the battlefield beneath a winter storm that had almost frozen his cock off. While others had stood mesmerised with terror at the sight of the white walkers, panic had driven Franco to fight for his life. He knew that was the only reason he was alive.

And the people of his hometown hadn’t the decency to thank him or offer a free drink.

Tying up his trousers Franco staggered away from the shadows of the large building and joined the others. The crisp night air had revived him somewhat, but his mind was still swirling from the night's revelry enough to banish the flashbacks of creatures with skin hanging of skeletal frames.

Baldus let out a giant burp.

“Quiet you stupid fucker.” Franco hissed. “We don’t want to scare her off.”

“Why don’t we just go to her house,” Baldus complained. “We could have her mother too. Teach her a good lesson you know what I mean.”

The others giggled like naughty children. Baldus let loose another belch. It was always like this after they’d been drinking.

“We’ll get to her.” Franco tried at least to keep his own voice low enough so he could hear anyone coming. Most of the other drinkers had already left in the Inn. There was a noise at the other end of the wide lane they’d laid their trap in.

“I hear something,” Franco hissed. “Remember I get her first.”

“I’m sure it’s my fucking turn.” The dark skinned one was leaning against the wall of the smith. They had chosen the location because knowing Elsa would have to pass on her way home.

“It’s not, and the bitch slapped me.” Franco glared at the others, and there were no arguments. He didn’t think the drunk fucker would be able to do anything anyway as he was barely able to stand. They would drag Elsa to her house where they would all have their turn after Franco, while he would have the mother as well. He’d had a hankering after the mother and daughter combination for a long while

“Quiet, there she is,” Baldus said.

Franco pressed himself back into the shadows urging the others to follow suit, so they didn't spook the girl. Even from this distance, Franco could see she was nervous; holding her cloak tight around her body and glancing back and forth as if expecting a confrontation.

While Franco wanted his companions to be silent, he could hear Baldus shuffling about, and Jared was breathing so loudly he sounded like a wild animal.

Removing his worn short sword from its scabbard, Franco watched the girl approach. He felt himself stiffen at the thought they would soon have Elsa stripped naked before marching her through the streets to her mother's house. No one would stop them, and no one would try to help her. The only thing they might have to do was fend off other town soldiers who wanted to get in on the act.

Any residents still out at this hour would hurry back to their homes where shutters would be pulled tight, so they didn't have to see or hear anything.

And Franco would have no remorse. Despite what they have done for the townsfolk and the sacrifices made on their behalf there had been no hero's welcome. No feast for the or adoration of the ladies. It was more likely they received a door slammed in their faces than an offer of thanks.  The villagers had claimed there was no food Gordon sure they were hiding it away because of their own greed. Lord Flowers was making them see the light. Franco had seen him fight, seen him claim back the lands he said should rightfully his. Seen the soldiers of the Golden Company who owed their life to Franklyn Flowers.

Dishing out a lesson or two to the inhabitants of Bitterbridge was part of what had to be done to keep order.

"Hello Elsa" Franco stepped out in front of the serving girl. Baldus moved to his left while the black skinned Jared took his place behind the girl with Toran.

“What do you want?” Her voice dripped with so much terror it excited Franco. He wondered what the look would be on her mother's face when they held her down and made her watch the boys teaching Elsa a lesson.

“You slapped me, bitch.” Franco rubbed his cheek. “We have a way of treating girls who slap their betters.” He gripped his groin and thrust it towards her.

“I am sorry I didn't mean it.” Elsa didn't move her hands from inside.

"Disobedient bitches need to be taught a lesson" Franco nodded to the two behind Elsa who stepped forward before ripping the cloak from her.

Even in the dim light of the torches that still burned on the street, Franco could see how beautiful the blonde girl was. But Gordon was surprised she didn't seem as terrified as he thought she would be, which meant she had more spirit than he’d given her credit for. It would make the moment even sweeter when he broke her resistance.

“Please don’t, I've been a good girl I will make it up to you I promise.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Franco took a step towards her, reaching up and stroking her bare cheek. Elsa’s voice sounded fearful, but the flickering orange light reflecting off her eyes told a different story.

Despite the longing in his loins, Franco felt a fear building inside him. It was the same sort of tingle of dread he’d felt when they marched to the battlefield in the morning before they had first seen the army of the dead. A sense of foreboding he couldn't shake off. Elsa didn't seem right, she wasn't cowed like the rest of the residents.

But she was just one girl against four grown men who had the backing of the Lord behind them. He smirked, trying to shake off the feeling by imagining her soft body squirming under his as she begged him to stop.

“There are things I can do that might please you, sir.” Elsa placed a hand against the front of Franco's trousers before giving the content a gentle squeeze. He gave a low moan, his hand groping at her breasts as Baldus urged him on

“I think it's time to get her stripped.” Jared grabbed the top of her dress.

The sexual excitement ripped through Franco’s body as her hand caressed his erection through his trousers and his brain conjured all manner of ways to enjoy both mother and daughter.

The speed at which the serving girl moved was remarkable. First Franco felt her hand tighten around his balls with such strength it felt as is they had been crushed between two stones. Almost in slow motion, Franco sank to his knees watching Elsa rip a knife from his belt before spinning round and slashing across the throat of Jared.

Her spinning motion continued until she was facing Baldus who Franco saw crumple to the floor beside him. The knife was sticking out of his eye.

Franco first used his sword to steady himself before trying to shake off the burning agony in his groin to face the serving girl. Ignoring him, Elsa turned again as Toran tried a clumsy attack. Going down on one leg she swept the oaf’s standing leg dumping him on his backside. Like a pouncing cat, Elsa was on his prone body, relieving Toran of his short sword before driving it into his chest

“You shouldn't pick on girls.” Something in Elsa’s look that terrified Franco and he knew he was going to die. He thought of trying to run. He considered trying to run her through with his sword. But into her eyes was like looking into the eyes of the undead.

“Who are you?”

The serving girl moved her free hand below her chin and if things weren't already terrifying Franco watched her peel back the skin. For a moment he thought she was one of the undead only underneath instead of a rotting corpse there was the face of another girl; the serving girl from the Inn. The same young woman who had entered the town earlier in the day.

“No-one.”

Franco’s wrist snapped sending bolts of excruciating pain through his body. His sword fell away, and moments later he felt his throat fill with liquid.

He couldn't breathe.

He was choking.

He was dying.

There was only darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know its a face of a living person. Is this possible. Well the debate rages because of certain scenes in the TV series, and what the hell it worked for my story. I don't think Arya would have killed a serving girl to get the face she used at the Fray's so that's my justification and I'm sticking to it!!!
> 
> Thoughts welcome its always good to read different points of view. :)


	5. Elsa's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out more about the town. A quieter and short chapter as i'll have a new one next Wednesday and Thursday.
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who has commented and give Kudos so far.

“So they are all dead.” Elsa’s mother, Myra examined Arya with a suspicious eye as she tossed the blood-soaked dress onto the fire. Stood inside the doorway of Elsa’s home it was difficult not to feel the intense glare of the robust woman who tilted her head as she looked Arya up and down.

After dragging the bodies into the shadows, Arya returned to the Inn to fetch Elsa who'd been sitting nervously in an outhouse. Having wrapped Arya in a warm hug the blond and not stopped asking questions as she watched her friend strip off the bloodied garments and don her more familiar leggings and tunic.

The two young women made their way through the town to Elsa’s small house near the south gate. There was no trouble along the way, and Arya had wrapped the dark cloak around her shoulders in case any of the guards wanted to examine them.

“They won’t bother Elsa any more.” Arya tried to gauge if Myra was as downtrodden as the rest of the townsfolk. Her initial impression was of a feisty middle-aged woman who didn’t take shit from anyone.

Myra smiled and sat her ample frame on a stool next to the fire. “Well not everyone will agree, but it's about time someone stood up to the bastards. Begging your pardon with my language.”

Arya acknowledged the older woman though she hadn’t revealed her true heritage to her or anyone in the town. The Stark name was despised by some in the south, despite what her family had done as part as saving Westeros from the army of the dead.

“What will happen when they find the bodies?” Elsa was sitting by the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees. While Arya had led her away from the street where the bodies were, the blond girl had been shocked by the sight of her friend covered in blood.

“It might be a problem.” Myra nodded her head as she thought things through. “They were guards, trusted men of the Lord, so he won’t let it pass.”

“What will that mean?” Arya asked.

“Revenge attacks I expect. They’ll be trouble for a while they try and find out the truth.”

“Will they ration us again mama?” Elsa asked.

“More than likely.”

“Ration you?” Arya furrowed her brow. The fire was roaring, and she moved to join Elsa who seemed comforted by the heat.

“They take most of our food. We get most from hunting in the forest or catching the fish in the river and trade it for grain we can get from Old Town. But the Lord takes most of what we have as taxes and rations the grain. We try and hide what we again in case winter returns.” The woman screwed up her eyes and clenched her fists. “But the bastards raid us and take everything they find, punishing those who conceal anything. Starving folk will often tell them everything for the price of a few meals a day.”

“That’s awful.” Arya realised things were worse than she’d anticipated. She also cursed herself for acting in such a reckless away by killing the guards. Her activity might make things harder for the people, not better. “Why do not people rise against him.”

“Too many soldiers under his banner.” Myra had calmed down. She smoothed the creases in her olive dress. “The folk here are simple peasants, women, children, the old and infirm. The fighting men went to the great war and didn’t return. Well, some did. But they’re in no fit state to protect us anymore.”

Arya knew what the woman meant. But there seemed to be enough ex-soldiers of the Lannister army and from the Golden Company who still wanted to fight. Provided it was picking fights with the weak. “Why do they fight for the Lord?”

“He offers sanctuary for those who fought on what he calls the right side. He offers wine and women in abundance. There is also the claim that it castle and lands are his by right. Or would have been if he hadn’t been banished from the family.”

“And the magic. The sacrifices.” Elsa whispered.

“Don’t believe all you hear Elsa dear.”

“What magic?” Arya asked.

“Rumours of sacrifices in the castle grounds at night to the Lord of light. Sacrifices so the human Lord can live forever. There are all sorts of tales of him using blood magic but never from people who have actually seen anything.”

“What about those that go missing?” Elsa persisted. “What happens to them?”

“Rotting in the dungeon for all we know. Or slaves for the Lord and his men. Its said he has a voracious sexual appetite for men and women.” Myra shuddered. “Of all ages.”

It was the rumour of blood magic that had brought Arya to Bitterbridge. Jon wanted any trace of the followers of the Lord of Light eradicated from Westeros. The sacrificial part of their rituals had no place in the new Kingdoms. Blood magic might have brought her brother to life and aided the downfall of the Night King, but it wouldn’t be tolerated any more.

“You should leave this town when the gates open at dawn.” Myra continued. “They’ll turn the town upside down to find out who killed the guards.”

“I won’t tell them anything.” Elsa hissed. “They were going to rape me.”

“I’ve come to help.” Arya rested her hands on her lap. “But I need to know if there are any in the town willing to fight back if they had the chance.”

Myra rose from the stool and folded her thick arms in front of her ample bosom.

“You’re looking at one of them.”


	6. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missed Wednesday so there will be two today.
> 
> Arya finds that still being skinny can have it's advantages.

“Open up in the name of Lord Tristan Rivers.” As the mail fist smashed against the door of Elsa’s house, Arya folded herself into a tiny space below the roof virtually embedded in the thatched roof. She understood why Myra considered it a safe hiding place. A tight squeeze for a full-grown adult Arya was skinny enough fit inside with ease.

She thought of the Hound peering into the compact space before declaring he’d rather fucking die than hide from ex-Lannister soldiers before waiting inside the door to bash the heads of anyone who entered.

Pulling some thatch across the opening and trying to ignore the scratching against her neck and face, Arya calmed her breathing wanting to listen to the goings on below.

“Step aside madam, all dwellings are to be searched by order of Lord Rivers.”

“What for? What’s going on now?” Myra's voice thundered above soldiers’ feet as they tramped into the house.

“Guards murdered on duty.” The soldier's voice was filled with contempt. “Lord Rivers, as the rightful ruler of these lands, has decreed all dwellings will be searched for the murderers and all food confiscated until they are identified.”

“Take our food.” Myra continued her protests. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then tell us who murdered the guards.”

“We know nothing about any guards. Look at us. We’re just women of Bitterbridge trying to get by.”

It was clear by the crashes and bangs from below the soldiers were turning the place upside down. Arya heard someone clamber up the stairs to the bedroom. His heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden floorboards.

“Then find out who did.”

A thud from the room below sounded as though the soldier had turned over the bed Arya and Elsa had slept in. The serving girl hadn’t wanted to spend the night alone, fearing soldiers would come and take her. Arya had settled her with tales of the dragons she’d seen flying in the north during the great war. While Elsa had heard of the dragons from the soldier's stories in the Inn she’d not seen them fly as far south as Bitterbridge.

Myra had told Arya to stay in the house during the morning as it wouldn’t be safe. She’d be able to go out in the afternoon with Elsa; back to the Inn undercover. In the morning when they made their way downstairs, Myra had already heard soldiers were searching the town, and Arya was sent to hide with a bag of food that would see them through the next few days.

“There’s nothing up here.” The soldier below Arya shouted. She held her breath, not wanting any movement to give her away. It was bad enough thinking about the effect her actions were having in the town, and Arya didn’t wish Elsa or her mother any more trouble. The soldier tramped back down the stairs.

“Until the murderers are handed over there will be no more rations.” A guard barked before the sound marching boots indicated they were leaving before the door was slammed.

Arya let her breath go. She was shaking. Not with fear but with rage at what they were doing. The kingdoms had been so ravaged by Winter, and the army of the dead, that taking the food off the ordinary people such a despicable act. She climbed out of the hiding hole and hurried down to join Elsa and her mother.

“Will they do this to everyone,” Arya demanded though she couldn’t push away the guilt knowing her actions had caused this outrage.

Myra nodded. “It’s the usual way.”

“Where do they keep the food they take?”

“Some goes to the castle while the rest is stored in a building near the river. It used to be owned by the fishermen until the Lord took it over.”

“Can someone show me.”

Elsa gave her mother a quizzical look. “I’ll need to go to work soon.”

“You can’t surely still have to work?” Arya asked. “Won’t they have taken all the food.”

“The Inn will be one of the few places to eat for those families who haven’t hidden some food like us. The prices will be higher, but as all the profits go to the Lord, then he’s happy for it to be open. And its where most of his men spend their time when they aren’t being bastards.”

While most of the townsfolk had been into submission, Arya could see Myra still had a fighting spirit. Something that could come in useful if Arya was going to help these people.

Her remit might have only been to investigate the rumours and send a raven before interfering, but Arya knew her actions might have already set the wheels in motion that couldn’t be stopped. Tristan Rivers had been a sick bastard when leading some of the Golden Company at Cersei’s behest. In the last hours of the are they’d tried to capture him and his band of loyal followers, but they’d scattered like leaves before the wind once it was clear Jon and Danny had won the struggle for power.

At least now they knew where he was. Arya was surprised at his audacity, but then again many troubles needed attention in Westeros, and this was just a small part of the Reach. Had it not been for his following of the hated Lord of Light the self-proclaimed Lord Rivers might have been left alone for a very long time.

“Could you show me on the way to work?” Arya asked. “Would that arouse suspicion?”

“It’s not far from the Inn so it would be okay.” Elsa nodded. “I wouldn’t go like that though.”

“Have you got a dress I can borrow.” Arya contemplated telling Elsa to stay at home while she went out as her again, but as she’d already worked at the Inn, then it shouldn’t arouse any suspicion. Besides Arya wanted to ensure up in the family had managed to escape the town okay and disguising herself as a serving girl appeared to be the best option.

Even if it meant wearing a bloody dress again.

 

 


	7. Gathering forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the Inn trying to get some help.

Arya knocked on the wooden door. She heard shuffling on the other side before the door creaked cautiously open and the face of the mother whose cart Arya had ridden on to enter the town appeared. She looked tired, pale and frightened.

“Why haven’t you left?” Arya asked, and her voice brought the patter of small feet before Lisa’s eager face appeared. The young girl threw herself at Arya.

“I thought you’d sleep with me last night. Where’s Saskia’s dress? Why don’t you come in.”

The mother duly moved back allowing her daughter to drag Arya inside. The room was large enough for a double bed a small mattress on the floor for Lisa to sleep on. Her father was still in bed, lying on his side and facing the door. It was obvious he’d taken a beating. His face was swollen, and both eyes were turning black, one he couldn’t open.

“What happened?”

“Guards came this morning and accused him of being a murderer. They’ve taken everything we have.” The mother sat on the bed next to her husband and took his hand. “We don’t have any money to pay for the room, but we are too afraid to leave.”

Arya swallowed. Was this another cause of her rash actions? “I’ll take care of the room. Have you any food?”

The mother shook her head as Lisa clung to Arya’s dress. “I’m hungry.”

“Can you be quiet.” Arya bent down speaking at Lisa’s level. The girl nodded. “Then come with me and we’ll find some food.”

“Will we see bad people.” Her eyes blinked with fearless excitement.

“They won’t bother us,” Arya said, and Lisa brought herself to attention as if she was a soldier. Arya turned to her parents. “I’ll get you something to eat. Whatever happens, you need to get out in the morning.”

The mother nodded holding her husband close.

“Will you come with us.” Lisa pleaded.

“I’ve things to do here.” Arya took Lisa’s hand and opened the door. “But I’ll come after you and make sure you are okay.”

“Promise.” Lisa squeezed

“I promise.” Arya led the girl down the stairs. The Bar area was already rowdy with thugs that had been terrorising townsfolk all day, demanding their fill of food and ale. It made Arya sick to serve them and force a smile on her face as she moved between their barbaric hands. A few locals huddled in the corner spending what few coins they could scrimp on the cheapest food while trying not draw the attention of the Lord’s men.

They waited a few moments in one of the rooms next to the kitchen which was used to store barrels of salted meats and casks of ale. After lifting Lisa onto the lid of one of the barrels, Arya moved into the kitchen before plating up some meat, cheese and bread. Other staff and the tall, thin cook with ginger hair assumed she was getting food for paying guests and didn’t question her. Arya passed through to the bar before circling back to the storeroom and delivering one of the plates to Lisa.

“Eat this quietly.” Arya handed over the plate and the young girl who began to devour the food. “I’ll get some more for your mum and dad.”

Leaving Lisa happily munching on a hunk of cheese Arya moved back into the bar where she served up several large tankards of ale before she was able to sneak out more food in the folds of her dress and return to Lisa. The young girl was almost on the verge of being exposed. Having finished her meal and grown bored of waiting she’d been peering out of the storeroom trying to spot Arya.

“I told you not to move,” Arya whispered pulling Lisa back into the shadows.

“I didn’t know where you were. I was scared.”

“It’s okay.” Arya ran a reassuring hand through the girls long blond hair seeing that she was about to cry. “Let’s get back upstairs. I’ve got more food. Quiet though.”

The girl nodded, wiped the crumbs of her mouth, and took Arya’s hand insisting she leads the way.

After delivering supplies to the grateful couple, and managing to pull herself away from Lisa’s hugs, Arya worked hard the rest of the night with Elsa as eventually the patrons managed to stumble out of the Inn and head to their dwellings.

“It’s too dangerous.” The cook was shaking his head while he listened and chopped at cloves as garlic prepping for the next days cooking. “We can’t fight them all. There’s too many.”

“You don’t have to fight them all.” Arya was sat on one of the tables. All the staff bar one young boy who helped out had either gone to bed or home. The cook was named Garret and someone who Myra had told Arya might assist their cause. “Just help get the food out of the store. Help give it to the others. Myra says the people still trust you; believe in you.” Garret was respected because of how tireless he had worked in keeping the town together during the war. While many of the menfolk were away fighting, he’d opened the Inn up as a place people could meet and eat cheaply. Even fortified it in case the war came to their doorstep. What no one had expected was the real enemy would come to Bitterbridge when the war was over.

“They’ll just take it again.”

“I’ll make sure they have nowhere to store it.” Arya persisted. “Myra is helping and she’s gathering others.”

“Your mother is helping.” Garret wiped his hands on his grubby apron as he looked at Elsa.

“You know how she feels about the Lord.”

Arya was also aware of how Garret felt about Myra which was why she’d brought it up. Myra had told her that if he was being resistant it might be a good way of persuading him. Arya had an inkling that Myra also had a soft spot for the cook.

“I know but…”

“Myra says if you stored some of the food here they wouldn’t find it because they wouldn’t look here.” Arya could see he was wavering. “They didn’t search here today did they?”

Garret shook his head. “As long as we keep his men happy they leave us alone.”

“Exactly,” Elsa said. “And we’ll easily be able to sneak food out to the people who need it.”

Garret looked at them both, rubbed his hands once more and then nodded. “What’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you for the comments and Kudos they really do help the motivation. 
> 
> I hope you are enjoying the story please comment your thoughts they are always welcome. Even if I have screwed up :)


	8. Night Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. RL got in the way but I'm getting through the story and have another Arya one coming soon. 
> 
> Time to steal back some of what had been taken.

The huge storehouse had four guards demonstrating the importance of the contents within. The structure itself consisted of low stone walls into which the wooden planks had been driven vertically into and held in place to form the more significant part of the building. Stone columns at each corner gave added strength and took the weight of the colossal wooden beams used to hold up the roof.

When Arya scouted the building during the day, she’d noted it was in a better state of repair than many of the dwellings in the town. Only the castle itself was better maintained. She’d briefly watched two stonemasons at work that afternoon before Elsa had dragged her away insisting they’d draw attention to themselves if they hung around.

There had been more guards during the day, and they had been more alert than the lackadaisical group who’d taken over the night watch. A broken barrel had been rolled to the main double doors allowing them to play cards, only patrolling the building between games. There were even bottles of wine they’d managed to smuggle onto their night shift.

By the looks of two of them, they were not part of the town who had a shortage of food. If Arya had been in charge of the lazy louts, she’d have had them doing hard training through the day after making sure they were patrolling and stood at their post all night. Though she’d have probably banished them from any castle she ruled a long time ago.

As it was their attitude was provided Arya with an opportunity.

She waited until two of them decided to take their turn marching, or more accurately strolling, around the edge of the storehouse. As soon as they began their patrol, Arya used the shadows of the building opposite swiftly passing ahead of them before climbing up the outside of one of the stone columns until she reached a flat area still being worked on she’d identified during the day. Taking measured breaths to calm her heartbeat Arya listened as the guards tramped around the outside of the walls. One was muttering about his bad luck and how he was going to win his money back before the night was over. It seemed the other was already in enough debt he didn’t want to gamble any more.

“Then you just take some more off the travellers.” The first one laughed, scratching under his flabby arms. “They aren’t going to do fuck all about it.”

“I suppose.” The other one nodded. “Or the Lord of light will provide.”

“The Lord of fucking light my arse.” The fat guard growled and moved his scratching to his backside as if to emphasise the point. “Fucking lunatic if you ask me. Just an excuse to act like a sick fuck and get all the god girls if you ask me.”

“Shh, if anyone hears you they’ll burn you next.”

“Fuck off, look I don’t care what he fucks or turns the people into as long as I’ve got a full belly and bottle of wine and my quota of fucks.”

“Well, the walls have ears. Look what happened to Franco and the others.”

“Fucking idiots they were, probably killed themselves fighting over a pie.”

“Some say it was the Lord of Light.”

“Fuck the Lord of light.”

“Shh.” The voiced hissed again.

“Oh, fuck off Jared, there’s no one to hear.”

As the two bickering guards were directly below her, Arya dropped from the wall. Landing behind the smaller of the two men she wrapped her arm around his face, covering his mouth before her dagger slit his throat. The instant she let go Arya span to see the fat guard had turned towards his colleague in a state of shock. There was only a moment to register the appearance of the girl in his eyes before she drove her dagger into his throat.

With a choked gurgle his chubby hands clutched at the wound as the guard collapsed next to his companion. Taking a moment confirm they were both dead Arya climbed back onto the roof before hastening along the flat edge keeping as low and as silent as possible. On reaching the other end of the building, she immediately dropped between the two other soldiers. Driving her elbow into the solar plexus of one she used the leverage to thrust the dagger into the stomach of the other. As both folded to the floor in surprised pain, they were finished off with slit throats.

Arya gave a low whistle. The signal to the others.

“By all the gods what are you.” Myra was first to reach her and stepped back when she saw the dead men, blood pouring from their wounds glistened in the light of the fiery torch the older woman had brought to light the way for the others. “The other two?”

Arya nodded as she wiped the Valerian dagger on her trousers to clean if of the blood before placing back inside her belt.

“I’ll call the others over.” Myra hurried back across the darkened street before returning with half a dozen residents in tow. Patting down the guards Arya was pleased to discover a bunch of keys and set about finding the right one to unlock the wooden double doors.

By the time everyone had gathered around, she was pulling them open.

“I’ll keep a lookout,” Arya whispered to Myra. “Are there other patrols?”

“Two were supposed to be out but the Garret offered them free drinks, and I managed to obtain a little something to occupy them at the latrines. There’ll be others near the castle walls, but they shouldn’t come this way.”

“I’ll watch anyway.” Arya glanced at the darkened buildings calculating the best location. “Keep it swift and silent, and we shouldn’t have any problems.”

Myra nodded before slipping inside the building after the others.

“This is exciting.” Having shed her serving dress, Elsa was wearing somewhat oversized men’s trousers and tunic as if she was trying to match Arya. She ducked through the doors after her mother while Arya sprinted across the dirt street and swarmed up the side of what was once a shop opposite. The crumbling walls meant she had to be extra careful, but she soon found herself squatting in the shadow of what remained of a chimney.

After a sweep to see if she could see any movement Arya tried to listen out for the sound of a patrol but gave up as the muttering of those dragging what they could from the store would mask any footsteps. Now and again she heard the lapping of the river against the nearby bank and the distant howl of wolves.

Arya wondered what Nymeria was doing and if she was still with her wolf pack. Sometimes when she travelled through the wilder lands of Westeros, Arya was sure she saw fleeting glimpses through the trees. It was as if he was watching her. Something to give her comfort when she had to camp alone at night in the forest. It reminded her of how Nymeria saved her when all had looked lost in the final battle of the Great Ware. How the direwolf had been the reason, Arya was able to strike a deadly blow against the Night King.

She turned her attention toward the castle where her real target strutted as though he was a god himself. But was it just the Lord or were his minions all part of it? She wondered if it was like what she’d heard about Stannis from Gendry. How, with the power of Melisandre by her side, he’d managed to convince his people to follow the Lord of light and do horrific things his name. The cult had tried to gain a foothold in Westeros since the Great War, claiming their influence made the difference. The problem was it was difficult to refute at times, but Deanery's and Jon had not fought so hard to allow the cult of the Lord of Light to spread their evil ways among the free people of Westeros.

The Raven she’d sent to Dragonstone earlier would tell her brother what Lord Tristan Rivers was doing in the town and lands around, and while Arya knew she would wait for the reply before doing anything more, it wasn’t in her nature to stand by and let people suffer if she could do something.

Hearing a low whistle, Arya shimmied to the ground and moved back over to the double doors as tired men and woman staggered out with the last of the stores they could carry.

“The rest is too much, and we’ve taken too long already.” Myra panted, her arms wrapped around a large sack of grain. There is a lot of wine and ale in there. Enough for a nice party.”

“Go,” Arya said.

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I’ll stay at the Inn tonight. I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore. And besides, I think I need to leave a little surprise.”

“Be careful,” Myra warned before shuffling off, the bag causing her to waddle awkwardly as she disappeared into the darkness of the town’s buildings. After watching her go Arya strode into the building lifting one of the three lamps the townsfolk had left on top of the barrels. They’d been taken from the tall posts scattered around the town that offered some light during the darkest hours.

The remaining crates and barrels had all been ripped open to see what could be salvaged, but with a strong smell of rotten eggs and rancid meat rising from many of them it was clear why they’d been left behind.

Wrinkling her nose as she examined them herself Arya found what she was after. A full barrel of lantern oil would help hers end a message to the bastard terrorising the town, one a follower of the Lord of Light would understand

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Always pleased to hear your comments.


	9. Sneaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After raiding the store Arya wants to find out more about what's going on.

As flames took hold of the wooden beams in the storehouse and the roar of the fire filled the air, the sound of shouts and cries of alarm could be heard as the townsfolk reacted. After closing the door on the blaze, Arya had once again deposited herself in a place where she could observe the goings on, and while a few of the civilians came to help because they knew nothing of the raid, it was mainly those in the Lord’s employ that rushed to the scene.

She noted the chaotic way they tried to deal with the fire. No orderly chain of buckets to the nearby river to attempt the dowse the flames, but a crazed flailing of people, some scurrying for water while others shouted about the food and tried defying the blaze to gain entry.

Having already considered some of their actions Arya smiled as she watched them try to break down the locked door. She knew it wouldn’t hold for long. She dowsed the thick wood in some of the oil she’d found inside the store, and parts of it were catching light.

As she watched more figures streamed from the castle, Ayra mentally counted their number and made a note of their faces where should make them out. Each one would die before she left this town.

It was time to move.

Arya slipped off the roof and stole like a shadow through the streets and toward the castle. The gates were open, with the two guards stood ten yards ahead as they strained their necks for a better view of the blazing storehouse. Arya edged around the shadows of the wall and slipped inside gaping entrance. It was tempting to slit their throats and have two fewer bastards in the world to deal with, but Arya had other plans.

Once inside the gate, there was only a small courtyard at the front before the central tower. Staying in the shadows she swept around the outside, passing beneath the archway of part of the inner wall, before coming upon the raised rear courtyard. While the castle itself was nothing spectacular, the rear portion of the small fortress was quite extraordinary.

As Arya climbed the steps of the raised courtyard, the moon emerged from behind a smattering of clouds to bathe the area in its silver sheen. There was no rear wall to the castle grounds as the building was pushed up right against the river, but the raised courtyard was also high above the river level preventing any enemy boats from using it as an easy point of attack. Ether side of the yard, next to the walls which proffered protection from land attacks, were two sturdy looking catapults as an extra deterrent to any would-be attackers. Though Arya doubted they’d ever been fired in anger.

The yard itself was mainly grass and once had been a garden where the Lord and Lady of the land could walk and enjoy the lush green plants and flowers of bountiful colour emitting their sweet fragrances. They would have been able to stroll to the edge where they would watch boats slowly ease down the river.

But the vegetation had been ripped out. Dwarf trees replaced by five large bonfires topped by long poles. Much of the grass was blackened and browned. What wasn’t had been trampled by the thousands drawn to the horrific spectacle of the sacrifices to the Lord of Light.

Three of the bonfires were clearly under construction only being half as large as the main two. Arya approached the nearest, using its shadow to hide her from any prying eyes. The sound of shouting from the town where soldiers still attempted to fight the fire was still dominating the night, and any eyes would surely be looking towards the activity.

For a moment thick clouds hurried across the sky as the breeze stiffened, obscuring the moon. The shouts turned to screams and Arya imagined flames fanned by the wind had probably caught out stupid soldiers with no idea of how to tackle the blaze.

When the silver light of the moon re-appeared Arya examined the tall wooden pole to see the scorch marks on the wood and blackened shackles hung ready for the next victim to be bound before the flames consumed their frail body.

It sickened her to think how many decent townsfolk had died upon the bonfires. People who had survived the devastating war against the army of the dead only to be burned alive on the whim of some jumped up Lord who’d spend more time avoiding battle than taking part in it.

As the wind and the screams died down Arya hoped any soldiers who’d helped with the sacrifices were caught up in the fire. Burnt and scarred only. Not killed. Better they suffered and lived with the pain and scars. Then they would see the truth of what their Lord of Light stood for.

While they might stand by and honour those innocents destined to be noble sacrifices for a greater cause, Arya was doubtful any of those watching would offer to change places so they could be closer to their god.

Just before the moon vanished once again, there was a glint of something white among the stack of wood and branches being piled for another horrifying sacrifice. Stooping Arya retrieved the small item that fit in her palm and on examination realised it was a tiny bone. Most likely one of a small child. For a moment Arya felt physically sick at the thought of an innocent child writhing in agony and terror as flames seared its smooth flesh. She wanted to storm the castle there and then; find the disgusting Lord so she could tear him apart and all those who followed him. Swallowing back the bile that had formed in the back of her through Arya heard soldiers marching with a quick step and was brought her back to her senses. They were approaching the set of stones stairs which would bring them into the courtyard.

“I can’t see anything.” She heard a rasping breath of one of the soldiers. They were almost at a jog. “Are you sure this isn’t a wild goose chase?”

“The Lord is sure he saw something.” The second voice was gruffer but sounded more in control of his breathing. “Someone moving among the pyres.”

“All that’s going on in the town, and he’s got us searching piles of wood.”

“Quiet you idiot,” the gruff soldier hissed. “If anyone hears you speak of our master that way it will be you on the next sacrifice.”

His companion offered no words as they hurried up the steps to the raised part of the courtyard Arya was standing in. With little time to move and unsure of an escape route via the side of the castle the river, Arya eased herself between the thicker logs and branches making up the pyre closest to her. As the soldiers split as they searched the courtyard, she buried herself as deep as she could before curling herself into a ball.

Holding her breath, she heard one of the soldiers tramp right up to her bonfire. He prodded it a few times before moving on. Arya let go of her breath but kept it steady so as not to move any of the wood around her and keep to keep listening for the guards.

At first, she listened to them talking in the distance. But just as she thought they might be leaving the voices became louder until she once again heard the footsteps only a few yards away.

“We’ve to stay here the rest of the night?” It was the first guard with the rasping voice who spoke and sounded pissed he was going to be out all night.

“It’s what the Lord commands. You know how he feels about these wood piles. They are a sacred homage to the Lord of Light.”

“Aye well, we should light this one and cook us up some food and drink while we wait. Or will the Lord of Light provide.”

“What did I tell you.” The gruff one growled. “Watch your fucking tongue.”

“Oh come on they can’t even see us from the castle. I’ve brought a little wine and some weed. At least let’s have a smoke.”

“Aye go on.” The gruff one said after a hesitation. “But one of us has to be visible sometimes. The Lord has eyes everywhere.”

Arya felt her hope of an easy escape drain as she heard the flint being struck so they could light their pipes. She just hoped they weren’t idiot enough to set the pyre on fire with her still in it. Attacking the soldiers would be impossible. Arya was so embedded among the wood any noise she would make trying to break out would have them ready and waiting.

All she could do was try to sit it out and hope they left before morning.


	10. In a bit of a fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After falling asleep can Arya find her way out of the castle?

The sound of a raven squawking punched Arya awake. The shock caused her to jolt upright, and for a moment panic gripped her as she felt the press of the thick branches and solid wooden planks encasing her fragile body. She took a moment, calmed her breathing and heart rate before taking stock of the situation. Remembering she was in a woodpile Arya relaxed her limbs reducing the pressure and easing the pain of sharp twigs sticking into bare flesh.

Peering through the branches, there was an orange glow off to the east, and the level of light indicated dawn was upon the castle. Already there were sounds of castle life in the still morning air. The pots and pans bashed together as breakfast was prepared, and there was the barking of orders that could only come from grumpy soldiers still tired after long night duties. Cursing herself for falling asleep Arya eased some of the dew-laden branches aside trying to detect the two guards who’d been standing near her pyre. There was no sign of them or the sound of their breathing, and she knew if she didn’t move while the light was still dim, she’d be stuck there all day.

Even as Arya squeezed her lithe body between some of the thicker branches there came a shouting and swearing sounding much closer than any other sounds. She darted out of the wood and rolled onto her knees, dagger drawn; ready to strike. Three soldiers, their armour looking smoke damaged, marched towards the steps to the upper courtyard pushing five haggard townsfolk before them. Arya backed up finding herself behind the last of the large pyres, using as cover to observe the newcomers. The five civilians were being corralled, one man was beaten by a nasty soldier using a wooden staff to encourage his prisoners. They were dragging back-breaking loads of wood behind them.

Arya glanced behind her knowing there was no escape through the gates now she’d left it so late in the morning, and aware the previous night she’d been spotted by someone from the main castle. Were they watching her now?

There was the yell of a woman and looking back the breath caught in Arya’s throat. It was Myra, she was one of those hauling the sacks, and screwing up her eyes to get a better look Arya was sure the man next to her was one of those from the raid last night. How has it gone wrong? What could she do to help them?

The hesitation while Arya tried to decide what to do nearly cost her freedom. A sound from the wall to her left. The clattering of boots as a guard stepped out onto the stone walkway to begin his patrol of that side of the castle. If he looked down, he had to see her.

Staying as low as possible Arya scurried back from the final pyre keeping it between her and the group approaching the macabre bonfires. After a few yards, she reached the edge of the courtyard, and a glance over the side showed a long drop of some thirty feet to both rocks and water as the river swept below. Knowing she couldn’t remain still Arya dropped onto her belly and lowered her legs over the side. The short grass was heavy with morning dew making her hands slippery. Lifting her head, Arya saw the group had already reached the first of the pyres with two of them dropping their loads so they could be added to the heaps of branches already pushed up against the tall blacked poles.

With no option, she slipped down thankful the rock face was rugged enough to contain plenty of handholds. Even so, it was all Arya could do to stop a rising panic as she scrambled down far enough to be safe from scrutiny. The sun was peeking above the trees on the other side of wide meandering waters of river Mander, flooding the area with warm light. There was a boat heading to the centre of the river and Arya hoped it was just fisherman out for an early catch that wouldn’t be looking her way. Surveying the rock face, the young woman thought there might be a way past the wall to her right if she traversed across that way.

With the water lapping against the rocks below it was tough to hear shouts of the guards meaning Arya concentrated on getting to freedom, even forcing out the image of the captured Myra from her mind. If she wanted to help the woman, then Arya had to make sure she freed herself. Guilt gnawed at her conscience knowing her actions seemed to be causing more harm than good. After sending the raven to Winterfell the previous day, she should have sat tight as Jon had told her. But that wasn’t her way. It wasn’t the Stark way.

Her throat was dry Arya slowly worked her way across the slick rocks towards a possible exit. The closer she made it to the base of the wall the lower she was forced to climb to find the best route to traverse. She remembered Bran at Winterfell and how easily he would swarm up and down such climbs, and he probably would have called Arya a little weakling if he’d seen how poorly she was doing. It was another image Arya had to purge from her head. Her muscles were burning with exhaustion the shaking was severe enough to control without throwing in the distress of the memory of those she’d lost.

Reaching the rock face below the base of the wall, Arya realised the jutting out elements that looked like handy rocks from a distance were blades driven into the rock to deter such climbers as herself. Rusted and damaged by years of neglect they looked brittle but their sharp edges in a cross shape making it almost impossible to grasp. Looking down, however, Arya could see those near the surface of the river were in even worse shape with many snapped off, probably being swamped by the river when the water levels rose.

She descended again, but the rocks were smoother and even more treacherous. Arya felt herself slip and desperately lunged at a possible safe handhold. She grabbed it, clinging on with her fingertips, feeling them lose their grip as she scrabbled with her feet to find some purchase. One foot caught a hold allowing her to propel herself upwards for a moment and gratefully grasp the jutting out rock. Taking a breath, Arya shook one hand trying to release the burning tension. She would need to find a place to rest. Her legs were shaking, and it looked as though she would have to climb back up when she passed the wall with already exhausted limbs.

Her foot slipped on the smooth rock.

Arya grabbed out with her free arm, but the smooth rock offered not grip, and despite her slender frame the weight became too much for her one fatigued hand to hold her in place.

Arya plunged the final few feet into the rock-strewn river.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly a cliff hanger!!
> 
> But will she survive?
> 
> As i am in a playful mood it will take at least two comments and three Kudos to save her.
> 
> I have an alternative ending so pay up or the Stark girl dies!!!!! You have one week.


	11. Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ransom paid then it appears there is a chance our plucky heroine has to chance to fight another day. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos and comments they always mean a lot. Sorry for the delay but I'm hoping to get two more chapters out this week as we head for the finale.

Arya braced herself as she plunged into the river, expecting her fragile body to smash against the wickedly sharp rocks and be broken forever.  Cold water engulfed her, forcing the air from her lungs as she sank below the surface. But the hard crash against the rocks never came.

Gathering herself, Arya struck out for the surface with powerful strokes before breaking through and gasping for oxygen. Despite only being underwater for a few minutes, the current already had her in its grasp, tugging Arya along the bank and forcing her to push out with her legs to keep herself from the rocks. Once passed the wall she made for the shore. Only the current was too strong and continued sucking her back towards the central part of the river.

Taking a deep lungful of air, as much to try and quell the onset of panic as much as give her strength, Arya kicked out again. Instead of trying to cut across the river she tried to use the flow and simply push herself sideways little by little. But as much as found herself edging toward safety the unpredictable flow of the river kept her from being able to grasp anything on the grassy banks she could use to haul herself free. And with her body already exhausted from the rocky descent, it began to reach the point it was all Arya could do to prevent herself from being sucked under the water.

As she struggled against the despair, Arya felt something grab the back of her tunic. Moments later the edge of a boat smacked the side of her body as she was hauled from the water by strong arms. Fearing capture, as soon as Arya was deposited in the hull of the small wooden boat she tried to scramble to her feet and face her potential attackers.

“Wow there lassie or you’ll tip the boat.”

An arm wrapped around her legs, steadying her as an old bearded man with a weather-beaten face sat in the middle of the boat took up a pair of oars. There were boxes by the man’s booted feet Arya could see held half a dozen silver-scaled fish piled ready for gutting. Letting the other figure sit her back in the hull of the boat the smell of fish wafted over her, reminding Arya of the docks at Bravos where she had once tried to sell produce from the sea.

“We’ll get you safely back don’t you worry.” The rowing man winked as he began to strain on the oars.

“You better get low.” Arya was pushed down, and as she curled among the ropes and the rods at the front of the boat, she glanced to see the other person in the boat adolescent male sporting his first wisps of facial fuzz.  “The soldiers are spooked, but we can get you safe.”

Arya nodded.

“It would be best if we if we got you to shore and you never came back to these parts again.” The man muttered as he strained against the river’s current after turning the boat around. Arya knew that as a fisherman he’d know all the parts of the river where the current was the weakest, allowing him to guide the vessel swiftly up or down the river. “Especially with another sacrifice tonight. If the Lord takes one look at a pretty lassie like you, he’ll have you himself before he gives you to the Lord of light.”

As Arya shivered in the bottom of the damp hull. Her limbs felt so weak, it was a tempting thought to flee the town and await extra help. But the raven she’d sent the previous morning would take days to summon any help, and appeared they were preparing for another horrific night of sacrifices. A situation she suspected had been made worse by Arya’s actions. A situation which had led to Myra being caught.

“There’s going to be another sacrifice tonight?” She asked.

“The Lord’s thugs have been rampaging through the town all morning.” The man shook his head, and Arya wasn’t sure if the redness on his face was through the effort of rowing or anger because of what was happening in the town. “Before I set off with Jim lad here, the announcement had already been commanded the whole town to the castle tonight to witness the glory of the Lord of light. Witness the power. I think he’s got something special planned something he’s been working up to.  He wants to teach us all a lesson for last night. A foolish thing. Didn’t they realise what would happen?”

Arya swallowed. “Some people want to fight back. The sacrifices won’t stop if the people stand by and do nothing.”

“We are fisherfolk and woodsmen, not warriors,” the man snorted. “We don’t know how to fight, those that did went off to face the army of the dead. Most of them never came back.”

“Like Luke.” The younger boy said.

“Aye like Luke.”

“Who was Luke?” Arya asked.

“Jim’s brother,” the man nodded at the boy not letting up on the powerful strokes propelling them along the river. “My nephews since their father was killed. Stupid bastard drowned when going out in his boat with a bellyful of ale. His sons were just wee bairns.”

“Luke learned to use a bow, so he could shoot the Night King.” Arya saw Jim sit a little straighter as he talked about his brother. “I can shoot a bow.” He leaned down to Arya. “I want to fight against the Lord, but Uncle won’t let me.”

“Because all it brings is greater misery boy.” There was a scowl on the old man’s face.

“He killed my mother.” Jim rose and faced his Uncle.

“I know lad I know.”

“They burned her. Burned her like the others.” Tears choked Jim’s words and Arya reach out a damp hand, placing it on his knee as the young man sat back down.

“And you think she wants her last son to throw away his life on a lost cause?” The man’s voice was stern but not as harsh as before. “I promised to protect you and that I will. Keeping you alive means keeping you out of trouble. Out of the town’s trouble. As long as we can fish and chop wood, we’ll be alright. Keep ourselves to ourselves and the Lord’s thugs will leave us alone.”

“If you don’t care then why did you pluck me out of the water?”

“Can’t let a wee Lassie drown now can I?”

“And taking me back into town?” Arya gave the Uncle a quizzical look, which the older man ignored.

“If you’re daft enough to help then that’s your business. If those folk are daft enough to want help, then that’s their business. ”

“Can you get me to the Inn?”

“We’ll get you there lassie.” The older man’s tone was grim. “But I’m not sure how much of a welcome you’ll get. Throw them sacks over her Jim lad. Keep her out of sight. We’re getting close to the town now, and I sense the nasty bastards poking about.”

The stink of fish guts intensified as daylight was obscured by the rough brown sacks tossed over her, and once again Arya found herself depending on others to hide her existence. She could almost hear Jon’s despairing voice at the impetuous nature of her intervention and the disapproval as she was informed of the danger she’d put herself and others in. Of course, he would be right, and Arya wouldn’t be able to argue against him. Which was why she had to do everything in her power to set things straight.

And she was going to kill the Lord who used innocent folk as his path to the Lord of Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What sort of welcome will she receive at the Inn? Will there be anybody to help her or will Arya have to go it alone?


	12. Back in the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay. Real life got involved but I should be finishing this off in the next couple of weeks as I have more on the way.
> 
> A slow chapter as the allies gather.

The old man lifted the lid off a long wooden box filling most of a hand-cart small. The cart had two wobbly looking wheels and two long lengths of wood out front so it could be hauled along. “You're skinny enough to fit in here girl.”

An overwhelming stench of fish guts exploded from the box. The old man shrugged at Arya’s questioning look and brought his hand up to his face which she decided was to hide a sadistic smile under his thick grey whiskers. “Jim will take you to the Inn. They’re expecting this for the feast tonight.”

“What happens if they look inside?” Shaking her head Arya folded herself into the box trying to deal with the fish already present sliding about under her weight. The smell was so intense her mouth tasted like rotten meat when she breathed in. When she clamped her mouth closed and only used her nose she was sure she could feel her nostril hairs burning. As she tentatively rested her head on some of the produce everywhere, she looked accusing fish eyes stared back at her while scales and sharp fins dug into bare skin.

“Then if you are still, they will just see fish.” The Uncle and another figure, a fisherman with a similar build and puffing on a stubby brown pipe between his thin lips, stepped into view carrying a large bucket. The Uncle chuckled as a cascade of fish fresh from the other man’s morning catch was poured over her. One flapped so much its body wriggled against Arya’s face.

Her attempt to cuss out the two men with some extremely personal expletives was thwarted by the Uncle dropping the lid.

There were muffled words between the Uncle and Jim before she felt the cart lifted onto its two wheels and slowly move off. The rocking of the unsteady wooden transport disturbed even more of the scaly creatures causing more to pile up against her face. It proved impossible to practise breathing and calming exercises to retain control when every breath made her want to vomit.

There was the barking from had to be a soldier as they went on their way.

The cart stopped. Arya felt it lowered. Some fish skittered away from her face.

She strained, hear Jim claim he was carrying the fish for the Inn. For the feast. Footsteps of a man in chainmail stepping right up against the side of the cart. Arya remained frozen, unconvinced the fish were covering her enough should they inspect.

“I hope it doesn’t stink as bad as this tonight.” The gruff voice said before banging the lid of the box. “Be on your way boy.”

Arya breathed a sigh of relief. She instantly regretted as the cart rose again, and a large fish slapped against her mouth forcing her to swallow back quickly to stop herself throwing up.

The next time they stopped Arya was pleased to hear the innkeepers grumbling tones. “Get it in here boy, hurry.”

Jim grunted as he manoeuvred the cart around and its wheels were dragged onto what felt like cobbles. As the box opened, Arya pushed the fish off her, ready again to make her escape if the faces on the other side were not so friendly. After all the Innkeeper had not sounded happy.

“We thought you’d been caught like the others.” He gave Arya an accusing look as she stepped out of the box and down onto the floor while brushing as much fish bits stuck to her sodden clothes as possible. He turned to Jim. “Go tell your Uncle we have the delivery.”

The youth nodded, gave Arya a smile, and scurried out of the door.

“I went to scout the castle but was nearly caught,” Arya shivered and wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to warm up. She could see into the kitchen and see the glimmer of the large main fire.  “I saw Myra and the others this morning building the bonfires. I escaped using the river.” She almost couldn’t finish as her teeth started chattering so much.

 “People are going to die on those fires tonight because of what we did.” The Innkeeper tone was tinged with an equal combination of accusation and guilt. “Good people who should’ve been asleep their beds this morning if you had not stirred up trouble.”

“People are going to die anyway.” Arya tried to appear defiant even though she was in a sorry state., The guilt burned inside her that Myra was caught because of what Arya had incited them to do. Also knowing she’d disobeyed the King’s orders by taking action when she was only supposed to send information back about what was happening in the town. Information that probably had no chance of making a difference before tonight’s festival. “You think the sacrifices weren’t going to be made anyway?”

“But not with Myra.”

Arya saw hatred burn for a moment in the Innkeepers eyes, and thought he was going to strike her. Arya wasn’t going to raise a finger in defence if he was. She didn’t feel she had the right. The anger in his face turned to fear and concern. “Not with my Myra.” He shook his head, shoulders slumping, and Arya knew she could use the love he had for her to get him onside.

“Then help me free her. Help me free all of them. We can stop this if we work together.”

The Innkeeper raised his head and snorted in disgust. “Take a look at yourself girl. Soaked to the skin and covered in fish scales. We’re no heroes, they left to fight in the great war, and most were killed. The rest returned either broken men or on the side of our Lord Flowers. Tonight the whole town is summoned to witness the sacrifices. Barons from nearby castles are coming to behold the power of the Lord of Light. Special guests, he wants to rally to his cause. Dozens of trained fighters are at his command against common townsfolk. I want to save them.” He swallowed. “I want to save Myra. But what can we do? What can you do? You’re no one?”

Despite the cold Arya couldn’t help but smile as something about what he said and the way he said it stirred something inside of her. While the Innkeeper was right about the plot against them and how few trained people there were Arya was determined to free this tonight from the savagery of their new Lord even if it meant her own life.

There would be no sacrifices tonight. The only people that were going to die was the Lord’s people and Lord Flowers himself.

And Arya already had a plan because there was only one who mattered and all she needed to do was get close enough.

“I may be no one, but I’m going to kill Lord Flowers, and your lands will be free again.” She softened her voice. “Myra will be free again. Doing nothing means she will surely die tonight. Doing something means that she has a chance. Help me, a mere girl, and you will give her a chance.”

His eyes roved her again, and while Arya knew to any person her sodden dishevelled appearance was not likely to inspire confidence in her abilities, she felt the steel inside her that she was going to see it through, and she hoped the innkeeper would see it too.

He nodded. “I’ll get Elsa. She can help clean you up and get you some food. I’ll inform the others.” He turned to leave and stopped. “I don’t know who you are girl, but if you let my Myra die, then her blood will be on your hands.”

 


	13. Three friends together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets help from Elsa and Lisa to prepare for a showdown with Lord Flowers.

Arya huddled close to the roaring fire at the side of the kitchen. Steam rose from her hair, and she had to continually move to avoid the heat searing her bare skin. Despite having been cleaned and stripped of her stinking clothes she was sure she still had whiffs of rotten fish guts. But then the pleasant aroma of baking pies would banish the memory of being in the horrible box.

Elsa had been the first one to throw herself at Arya when the Innkeeper finally accepted he was going to continue helping. She’d ignored the fish scales clinging to her olive serving dress as she’d embraced her friend. Though the embrace had been short when the smell had become too much to bear.

Then, as Elsa was helping Arya our of her sodden clothes, it had been Lisa’s turn to leap at her friend until the reality of Arya’s situation had her nearly throwing up in the corner of the yard. The Innkeeper called two of the kitchen hands to bring in the fish while Elsa led Arya into the dilapidated washing room at the back of the kitchen. The window was cracked, and the door had to be held shut, but it provided enough privacy for them to completely strip down and wash Arya without her stench being taken into the Inn.

Lisa helped carry as much of the water as she could. Her skinny arms struggling with full buckets of warm water taken from the kitchen.  When the filth was wiped from Arya’s skin, Elsa found her some slightly too small trousers and an overlarge tunic she could wear. Grateful for the dry warmth Arya was then led into the kitchen, and while Elsa prepared her a basic breakfast of warm bread and meat, it was Lisa who fed it to her demanding she tell them how she came to be delivered in a box of fish.

It was hard to be hungry with events still spinning in her mind and the daunting prospect of solving the problem for the town hanging over her. But Arya knew she had to restore her energy and the bread tasted good. It reminded her of Hot Pie’s cooking, and for a moment she entered a wistful world where she, Gendry and Hot Pie were together again in a different Inn telling tall tales and without a care in the world. She hadn’t seen Hot Pie since before the great war.

Lisa brought her back to reality, pushing a goblet of wine into her hand. While she knew she should be keeping her head clear, Arya welcomed the warm, relaxing feeling it spread throughout her body.

“I saw your mother,” Arya told Elsa. “She was okay. I’m going to get her out of there.”

“I know.” Elsa hunkered down before the fire adding more logs and stoking the embers. The kitchen was a hive of activity directed by the Innkeeper and his sister who lived in the Inn but rarely made an appearance preferring to let her brother do all the work. There were whispers when she appeared that she was a great chef, only no one had ever seen her turn her hand to cooking anything. But the feast was so important all hands were needed, and help brought in from other townsfolk. Every spare table space was taken up by food preparation, and his sister was moving some people into the main bar to continue preparations there.

But there was no happiness in the work everyone was doing. It was no labour of love. The sweat on the brow of the Innkeeper was as much with nerves and fear of what would happen if he didn’t deliver than the heat of the fire. He would occasionally glance over at Arya with a look of pleading on her face.

Like so many people he was now relying on her to make things better.

Two men came in from the back, and the Innkeeper directed them to the cellars. The reserves of ale were to be rolled up to the castle. Though it appeared they were not going to be recompensed at a fair price, but what choice did any of the townsfolk have.  If Lord Flowers demanded it, they had to provide.

It was up to Arya to make a difference, and with no time for help to come from the messages she’d sent to her brother it was a difference she’d have to solve the problem on her own.

“We’re going to get her out.” Arya took hold of Elsa’s hand. “We’ll get all of them out.”

“I want to believe you.” Elsa placed the last log on the fire and turned to Arya. “But how?”

“Do you know your plants. Can you find poppies? They are blooming now.”

“Of course.” Elsa looked puzzled.  “The Maesters use it to make milk of the poppy. But why?”

“Gather as many as you can, the white ones, and crush the flowers and stir in a little wine. If you mix them into one of the broths, they will send whoever eats it to sleep for a little while. But they must only be certain broths if you take my meaning. I heard they are being provided from here.”

“The guards.” Elsa’s eyes widened with realisation. “But I’m not a Maester.”

“You don’t need to be,” Arya insisted. “We only need to have them out for a few hours, and if some of them die.” She shrugged her shoulders.

At first, Elsa looked concerned. She then smiled and rose to her feet. “I’ll do it. I’ll go now.”

“Make sure you oversee the broth, so no one else eats it. You be the one to go up there and serve it.”

 Elsa nodded before she hurried off lifting her skirts so she could move faster.

“How is your papa?” Arya turned her attention to Lisa. “Can you all get out of here today?”

“He's still sick.” The young girl shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “He won’t wake up. Momma says he’s still with us but won’t leave his bed. He’s so cold. I help here so we can keep the room. But he says we’ll have to go soon. I don’t know what we’ll do. Momma won’t stop crying.”

Arya leant forward and embraced the smaller girl. “When I kill the bad man, we’ll get some medicine for your papa and some good food.”

“Some men don’t like you,” Lisa whispered in her ear rising to her knees between Arya’s legs. “They think you are trouble and you should be handed over to the bad man. They think that will make things better. I heard them talking. They didn’t see me.” She sat back a proud look on her face.

“Perhaps they are right.” Arya swept Lisa’s hair behind her ear as she too lowered her tone.

“The bad man will hurt you.” Lisa frowned. Then stretched up to wrap her arms around Arya’s chest as if to stop her from going.

“Then I will stop the bad man.”

“We can’t stop bad men momma says.” Lisa’s arms were tight around Arya. “We are only girls.”

“Your mamma is wrong Lisa.” Arya pushed the young girl back and looked deep into her brown eyes mustering all the sincerity she could. “Girls can stop monsters as well as any boy. Better than some.”

“But I’m no one.” Lisa shook her head dismissively then shrugged. “I’m just Lisa.”

Arya hesitated a moment, then lean forward, pushed Lisa’s hair behind her ears again and whispered. “My name is Arya Stark of the House Stark, and Lord Flowers is on the list of people I’m going to kill.”

Lisa’s head snapped back, her eyes full of astonishment. Arya pressed her finger to Lisa’s lips wondering how where the young girl had heard her name. She nodded, her face becoming solemn as she understood the gesture. Then she leaned forward herself.

“I want to help. I want to be like you.”

“One day you will.” Arya smiled finding a little piece of joy in a terrible situation. “But you must work hard an always believe.”

The young girl nodded her eyes now shining with excitement.

There was the sound of raised voices outside the kitchen.

“They have come for you.” Lisa rose and tugged at Arya’s drab brown tunic. “You should go. They will give you to the Lord.”

“Sometimes you have to stop running and face the bad men.” Arya rose from her seat. “Go upstairs. Stay out of the way and protected your momma.”

Taking a deep breath, she wove away through the kitchen staff to where the double doors were leading to the main bar. For good or ill this was the beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think she has planned? And do any plans work out they way you expect them?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	14. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone wants the help of our heroine it seems.

While the Inn wasn’t open to the public a small group had forced their way in and were surrounding the Innkeeper. One of the party, a tall man with angular features and hooked nose, jabbed the Innkeepers with his bony finger. Arya could see the tension in the large man’s shoulders despite hold his arms out in a conciliatory gesture.

“I assume you are talking about me.” As Arya passed into the main bar, there was food piled high on some of the tables near the kitchen ready to be transported to the castle. She grabbed a fresh bread roll from one of the plates. She knew it could be while before she had a decent meal again and tore into the crusty cob.

Five faces looked her way. The hooked nose man pushed the innkeeper aside and stamped across the wooden floor. Arya didn’t shift her position. Instead, she took another bite and vigorously chewing as she looked the newcomer in the eye. If he thought his actions intimidating to a what appeared to be merely a girl, then Arya nearly laughed in his face at his pathetic efforts.

“It’s you they are after. This could all stop if we turn you in.” The man took a step back as if unnerved by Arya’s nonchalance. He looked her up and down. Somehow regaining some of his initial bluster. None of the two other middle-aged men stood with the Innkeeper looked to be carrying any weapons. Arya assumed they were the town elders.

“So, if I turn myself in tonight’s sacrifices won’t go ahead. Everything will be fine?”

The other two elders shuffled over next to their companion leaving the innkeeper behind them. Their faces were hardened and serious. These were men who’d tried to keep their town safe during the recent upheavals. They were not fighters but farmers, traders and fishermen. Folk desperate for the rich and powerful to stay out of their lives so they could continue to eke out a meagre existence unmolested.

Though noticed the one the left, who still had some colour in a head of hair otherwise was dark grey, wore more expensive garments and though his hands were clasped in front of him, she could see his rings were gold and silver. The only residents Arya suspected would be able to retain such wealth in the town were those in the pay of the Lord.

The third man was smaller than his companions. With a rat like complexion ravaged by pox, and thinning ginger hair. His grey robe was the shoddiest of all three and nothing about him told her he was prospering under the new regime. Though it could well be he hoped to by supporting a move to deliver her to the castle.

“You are only making it worse,” Hook nose snapped.

“The Lord of light will be merciful if you turn yourself in my child.” The ring adorned man spoke and confirmed Arya’s suspicions of him. He was the influencer, the one who’d persuaded the other to turn Arya in. He would die tonight.

“I’m no child,” Arya smirked. An expression that unnerved all three men. There was a knife on the side of the table next to the rolls. She retrieved it before slicing off a piece of bread in a deliberate manner. Hook nose watched her every move shuffling back a little and leaving the traitor in a more prominent position.

“If we don’t take stand then where will this end.” The Innkeeper shook his head as wiped his hands on his apron despite there being no need.

“The Lord of light will show mercy.” Grey hair bowing his whole upper body. “To be sacrificed is a great honour.”

“Great then you’ll come with me and offer to take one of the places.” Arya pointed her knife towards his heart.

A startled look spread across his face for a moment before his composure returned. “The choices have already been made.”

“Then you don’t need me,” Arya returned to her slicing and eating of the bread.

“You must answer for your crimes against the town.” Hook nose stammered. He looked drained of confidence.

“The only crime she has committed is trying to help us.” The Innkeeper protested.

“And only made things worse.” Ratface hissed. “They’ve taken my wife because of last night. I told her not to. I begged her. But this witch had cast a spell on her.”

Arya raised her eyebrows. So she was a witch too. What other charges would be laid against her? There was more shouting outside the main doors of the Inn, and Arya knew the soldiers were here. “So, you’ve already made up your mind.” She remained calm though her heart was hammering ahead of what was going to happen next.

“It will be better for the town.” Hook nose failed to sound magnanimous.

“I want my wife back.”

“And you think this will bring his wife back,” Arya pointedly stared at the grey-haired man. “The Lord of Light will spare her now. The Lord in the castle will spare her.”

“He promised he would.” While Arya thought the grey-haired man didn’t sound convincing it was enough for his companion, who was understandably desperate to hold on to any shred of hope his beloved might be saved.

“Open up in the name of Lord Flowers.” There was banging on the doors.

The four men looked at her.

“You better let them in if you’re only here to save your own skins.” Arya stabbed the knife on the table making hook nose jump. Ratface backed away. Only grey hair seemed to grow in confidence which was probably because he knew the might of the castle Lord was with him.

“Are you sure?” The Innkeeper gave Arya an incredulous stare.

She nodded. “If you don’t let them in they’ll break it down. You’ve already done enough for me.”

“But what shall we do.” He was rapidly wringing the apron while edging towards the door to unlock it.”

“Be prepared for anything tonight.” Arya gave him a wink. As she popped the last of the roll into her mouth and place the knife back on the table.

The Innkeeper nodded, and he moved between tables before unlocking the door. Half a dozen soldiers spilled in, their weapons drawn, and a ragtag assortment of armour strapped onto their bodies as though they were expecting to fight a hoard.

“This is her.” Hook nose stood aside and pointed towards Arya his confidence returning.

“Are you going to give us any trouble girl.” The best armed and tallest of the soldiers, who was at least wearing a Lord of Light tabard, clanked his way over and stood in front of Arya.

“I’m just a girl,” she offered an innocent smile. “What trouble can I be?”

“Then come with us.” He roughly grabbed her arm and Arya was forced to resist the urge to grab the knife and drive it into his eye. She’d already calculated that if she then seized his blade two of the soldiers could be dropped in a single sweep and of the three remaining more than one was liable to piss himself once the blood started spurting.

Instead, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to be steered towards the door.

“Don’t take my sister.” A whirlwind flew from behind the bar and threw itself at the head soldier. Two scrawny arms wrapped around his neck. “Leave her alone.”

Lisa then let go with one arm and started beating against his helmet with her fist.

For a moment the soldier was so shocked he released Arya’s arm and staggered towards one of the tables. As he collided with it, the trays of food were shaken so much the rolls tumbled onto the floor. Recovering the shoulder plucked the girl from his shoulders.

Lisa found herself once more dangling in the air held by the back of her worn blue dress. She lashed out with her tiny fists but was unable to connect with anything meaningful.

“What do we have here.” The guard laughed as he recomposed himself. “A relative.”

“Let her go,” Arya spoke through clenched teeth. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“You are all the Lords’ subjects. She has everything to do with it.”

Arya lunged at the nearest guard who was watching on holding his spear, she grabbed at the short sword untidily strapped onto his belt and pulled it clear. But in the time it took her to spin round and face the guard captain he was already holding Lisa close to his chest a mailed hand around her throat. Lisa was already choking.

“Once step closer girl, and she dies.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Arya heard the voice of the guard behind her, and while Arya was still transfixed on Lisa and desperate to get the young girl out of the situation, there was a blow to the back of her head.

Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment with your thoughts. I'm still learning this writing game and its good to hear from people. 
> 
> But most of all I hope you are enjoying the story.


	15. This wasn't the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya wakes up and she's not in a pleasant situation.

Arya’s body arched as freezing water crashed into her face and onto her body. She gasped for breath; desperately trying to suck in air as her mind screamed she was drowning. Opening her eyes, Arya squinted in the dim light as the fog cleared from her groggy head. A sharp stab of pain seared across the back of her skull and she remembered the blow which had taken her down.

Blinking water from her eyes and regaining focus, Arya calmed her thoughts.

She wasn’t drowning.

Instead, she became aware of the icy tendrils of water dripping down her naked body and a terrible ache in her shoulders. Arya didn’t need to look up to know her arms were strapped overhead; only doing to see the method of bondage and effort it would require for her to free herself. Leather bindings cut cruelly into her wrists as they’d been taking the strain of her slumped body.

Adjusting her feet, so at least her feet had some weight against the rough stone floor, Arya relieved some of the pressure on her shoulders. The fact only her tiptoes had any purchase with the ground meant it would be a lot harder to pull off a move allowing her to unhook the leather straps from the chain fastened them to the black rock which formed the ceiling above her. But not impossible.

Overall it wasn’t the best way to start the next phase of her mission.

“Get the Lord. She’s awake.”

Arya focused on the speaker as he dropped a wooden bucket to the floor and let the remnants of water spill out. He was one of the foul looking men she’d ever seen that was still alive. Uglier than the Hound waking up after a night of heavy drinking. A face ravaged by the pox had left not just pitted and scarred skin but was also afflicted with scabs and blisters indicating he was still full of disease.

The hunched figure, clad in rancid looking brown robes, kept his hood covering most of his head which was probably a blessing to all who had to look at him. The grey eyes which peered at Arya were devoid of any human empathy, and she knew he was the type of tortured soul who inflicted agony on others in retribution for its own horrific experiences with pain.

While there was enough strength in her arms for Arya to haul herself up and wrap her legs around his sunken neck so she could snap like a twig, she knew he wasn’t the real problem. Enough training and experience forced her to get her breathing under control and examine her surroundings.

Arya’s eyes flicked either side of the jailer.

The flickering light from two torches attached to the walls was enough to reveal the place was unquestionably a dungeon. But this was a dark chamber where it was clear unfortunate folk were brought for questioning even if the inquisitor was not overly concerned with the accuracy of any answers offered.

There was another man in the room. A tall guard, wearing chainmail armour with a tabard of the Lord of Light. He was stood upright; a rigid stance Arya thought betrayed a level of discomfort. She wondered if it was because he was in the presence of a sadistic torturer or a naked young woman dangling helplessly from the roof.

She was just appraising the sword attached to his belt as a potential weapon she could use Arya heard a whimpering coming from the shadows in the corner of the dungeon. Turning her head so she could peer past the guard, her heart sank on seeing the diminutive figure of Lisa. Forced into a wooden chair her scrawny arms and legs were strapped down preventing any escape. Neither did Arya think it was a regular chair for sadistic spectators to watch the jailer at work. Lurking between the flickers of the orange torchlight were many wooden contraptions scattered around the dark chamber Arya had no doubt had been dreamed up by deviant minds to inflict all manner of gruesome torture on anyone unlucky enough to find themselves at their mercy.

“The Lord is coming now.” Arya’s snapped round at the sharp prod into her ribs from what appeared to be a short wooden stick the ugly bastard had produced from under his robes. “Answer his questions girl,l or I’ll have to make you squeal.”

His other scab infested hand pointed towards a crude wooden table a few feet to her side which sported an assortment of utensils whose entire existence was to damage specific body parts. Arya couldn’t tell if the brown stains were because the tools were rusty or still caked in dried blood. The bastard stepped against her body and leaned up managing to bring his face close to hers.

“But not to fast. I like making the skinny girls squeal. And your skin is so smooth an delicious.”

Arya wasn’t sure whether the reek of rotting maggots was from his breath or some of the puss filled sores on his face. Either way, she wanted to vomit. The jailer lowered his head and pressed his mouth against her stomach. She felt his tongue on the bare skin freshly drenched by the water. There was a muted groan of pleasure from the stinking man. Arya felt his scabbed chin scrape up her belly as his tongue licked up onto an exposed breast.

The urge to pull an escape move which allowed her to grab one of the instruments of torture he intended to use on her, and ram it into his eye was so intense Arya had to close her eyes and fight back the surge of fierce adrenalin.

The sound of solid boots and armour clanking against each other indicated others were about to join them in the room. There was a distant scream of a woman, the laughing of men elsewhere in the prison as the door opened. Swallowing back the desire to remove the puss ridden face of the jailer Arya prepared to confront her real target.

The disgusting creature pulled away from her body. The guard stood straighter as another, clad in the same chainmail and tabard, but a little shorter in stature entered the chamber and took up station beside his companion. He was followed by three more figures.

The first was most obviously Lord Flowers with his flowing blood red cloak and ceremonial armour. A clean-shaven face topped with a mop of blond hair was not unpleasant to look at, but eyes narrow and cruel dismissed any notion an observer may have that he had an ounce of kindness in his body. An image confirmed by the chain running from his wrist to a leather collar fastened around the neck of a poor young woman whose modesty was only covered by the merest scraps of ragged cloth. Her face was hidden by tangled knots of hair as she kept her eyes looking down.

When the final figure entered a cold shiver racked Arya’s body as the temperature in the dank chamber plunged.

It was a woman, a creature, with dark grey skin that looked so worn and thin it was as though it had been stretched to fit her misshapen head. A few strands of silver hair dangled from the crown, and her eyes could barely be made out they were so sunken into her skull. Her short body was encased in a blood red robe which seemed so luxurious it seemed a stark contrast to the aged and withered look encompassing the rest of her features.

While Arya wasn’t quite sure she was human, it was the aurora emanating from her frail body causing her the most concern. Arya was sure even the guards had shivered when the grey-faced woman and floated into the room; while the jailer had melted into the shadows near Lisa wanting to be as far away from the creature as possible. The young girls whimpering had died away.

Only Lord Flowers seemed unperturbed he stepped in front of Arya with the air of a noble who considered himself above reproach.

“Do we know her name?” The Lord had the deep voice associated with someone wishing to command respect. Though his words were accompanied with a spray of spittle and his teeth had items stuck within them as though he had just been disturbed from a meal.

“She has only just recovered from the blow my lord.” The jailer shuffled back into view. “I thought I would wait until you were here before starting the questioning. I know how you like to ask the questions yourself.”

A sneer spread across the Lord’s face as he looked Arya up and down before grabbing one of her arms and twisting her body around. She was forced to move her toes as fast as she could to keep up, but his dragging of her body soon had her dangling helplessly. Slowly he removed one of his gauntlets and groped Arya’s behind while breathing heavily into her ear. Arya flexed her fingers making sure there was still some blood flowing. She had been prepared for this. Knew her training would allow such swift movements the Lord would not be able to react in time to defend himself. While he was satisfied the naked young woman was at the mercy of his every whim, Arya knew she could strike him dead in a moment.

And she would have done it was it not for the old woman.

Because Arya realised the foul creature was the real enemy.


	16. Things can only get better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times are tough when you are dangling naked in a dungeon.

“Who are you?” Lord flowers prodded Arya’s stomach before allowing his fingers to ride up the smooth naked flesh between her exposed breasts.

Arya looked him in the eye but remained silent.

“You’ve caused me trouble girl. A lot of trouble,” his finger moved across onto one of her breasts before taking her nipple between his thumb and finger

She kept his gaze. Kept her silence.

The twisted squeeze when it came sent lightning strikes of pain through her chest. Arya grimaced but could only stifle the grunt that came out.

He kept up the pressure. “It would be a shame to spoil such an exquisite body. But my disfigured friend here is an expert in such matters.”

Arya eased herself into a calm mental state and accepted the pain. Anger fought to gain control. But Arya kept focused. She flicked her eyes at the old woman. The creature looked on and licked her cracked, flaking lips.

“Who sent you girl?” Lord Flowers switched nipples, pausing a moment to give a respite from the pain. She knew the trick. Let her recover a little, so her body didn’t become numb to the abuse. “Who are you?”

She forced her jaw to relax. Calculated the chances of her taking them both down before the guards intervened. Lord Flowers would easy, but she didn’t know the power of the old woman. The weak and fragile exterior was surely hiding something. Arya had seen it before.

Her gaze returned the Lord and saw the recognition in his eyes that she was not the sort to be easily broken.

He stepped back. Turning the jailer. “A few lashes to soften her up.”

“Be a pleasure, my Lord.” The torturer moved around from behind the larger man and from his short stick he dropped the three short lengths of leather attached to one end.

“Wait.” The old woman swept between the two men and Arya. She barely seemed to have much of a body under the robes, and there was appeared crooked and warped into unnatural movements. Pressing her cracked face against Arya’s naked body the old woman sniffed Arya’s skin like some dog inspecting a find. She started at Arya’s neck before moving down onto her stomach and between her legs. “She’s a fresh one.” The woman kept sniffing but moved back a little, allowing her to circle the prisoner. “There is power in her blood. None of the others have such power. She could be who we need.”

“But who is she?” The Lord said.

“I’ll loosen her tongue.” The jailer raised his lash.

“No.” Lord Flowers raised his hand. “We may need her undamaged.” He glanced around towards the waif-like figure of Lisa who was sniffling quietly where she was strapped in the chair. “And this one can be damaged as much as you like.”

“I’ll string her up too.” The jailer grinned as he overcame his disappointment of not getting the chance of dishing out his own brand of agony on Arya.

“No.” Arya finally broke her silence.

“No, my Lord.” The jailer gave her a whack across her backside with the wooden end of the lash. It was painful, but she imagined it was nothing like he was capable off if the Lord had let him off the leash and she couldn’t let him get his hands-on Lisa. While her plan to take down Lord Flowers had always been full of risk, everything seemed to be going bad.  But there was some hope if the old woman thought Arya could be of use unharmed. She knew the Lord of Light was supposed to like royal blood. After all, it was why Gendry had been taken by Melisandre. While Arya might not have been descendant from a king, she was still noble blood.

“Are you going to talk now?” The Lord asked.

“If you leave her alone.” Arya spat. The jailer looked as though he was going to strike again, but a glance from the Lord stayed his hand.

“You are in no place to negotiate.” Lord Flowers smiled, leaning into her again. “But I admire your fortitude. You are not like the peasants I normally get to see.” His ran his bare hand down her side and momentarily between her legs. “Now who are you?”

“I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell.” She knew there was no point holding back. If the woman wanted her for something else, Arya needed to know what it was. The woman reminded her a Melisandre and the power she had wielded over Stannis and even Jon when it came to her magic, and her prophesies. It was little wonder so many were being sacrificed.

But there was something else about her, something darker and Arya had the sense everything happening was not for the benefit of the Lord but for this woman. She was the real evil behind all actions. While the Lord himself had to be halted and made to pay for his crimes, stopping the witch had become a higher priority.

“A Stark.” The woman had moved back round to the front of her, showing remarkable strength to push Lord Flowers aside before moving her withered. Bony fingers across the surface of Arya’s body.

Something insidious about her touch sent waves of revulsion through Arya. She felt as if the woman, despite the frailty of her appearance, could crack her limbs in an instant if she wished. Arya took a breath and tried to clear her head. It helped a little. The woman was playing tricks on her, influencing her mind.

“Noble blood indeed. She is a gift from the Lord of Light just when we needed it. Just as I said. Tonight his true power will be revealed to you.”

The woman whirled away from Arya with remarkable grace and agility, sweeping to the side of the Lord, her robe swirling around her.  She is the Wolf, and you can be the Stag like your father. Tonight after the sacrifices the Stag will mount the Wolf, and in the morning you shall have the power you desire. The woman continued to show agility as she almost seemed to dance around the Lord. Her voice was not that of an old woman but of a seductress, and there were moments when even Arya thought she was seeing a beautiful woman and not a haggard crone on the verge of death.

Arya tried to make sense of her words. The stag was the sigil of the Baratheon’s but the only one left was Gendry. Flowers was just some Ser from the Golden Company who had taken advantage of the war to turn himself into a Lord. She had no knowledge of his lineage, but could not believe it would lead back to Robert or Stannis. Not that she really cared. There could be no idea what the Stag mounting the Wolf meant, and Arya certainly wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Then it will be so.” There was a hunger in the Lords' eyes, a hunger for power and lust which saw him gaze upon Arya’s body as if it was a mere plaything for his pleasure. “But must I wait until tonight to take her.”

Arya braced herself as he took a step forward. He looked mesmerised by her body, but she now knew the real reason. The witch had him under a spell.

“You must, my Lord you must.” The witch placed herself between them and seemed to be able to move him away with ease. “You satiate your appetites on your current pet.” She pulled at the chain attaching the unfortunate prisoner and the Lord. The girl stumbled. Grabbing the chain to keep her upright. “But not too much. You must be powerful when you unite with the Wolf. And she must be prepared, she must be prepared.” The witch turned to the jailer. “Let her down. Make sure her body is clean, and I will send for her.”

“What if she tries to escape?” The jailer looked as though he would prefer to administer punishment rather than let her loose.

“We will leash her,” the witched smiled, she moved over to Arya and took her neck. “Like all wild animals should be. And if she gives us any trouble.” The witch dance over to Lisa who was looking on at the proceedings in a state of shock. “Then you can extract body parts from this little one. I have need of new stock. Prepare her too.”

The witch gave a laugh before floating out of the room. There was a pause after she had gone. Lord Flowers still seemed to be in some sort of trance. “As she says.” He mumbled before gathering himself and striding out of the room, yanking his current pet behind him.

It was clear to Arya who was in control in the castle as the jailer pressed himself up against you.

“Seems such a waste,” he shook his head waving to the table full of vile instruments. “I had everything ready. “Would have been nice to peel back some of this lovely flesh.” He ran his grubby finger across her stomach.

Arya spat in his face. It was all she could do not to pull up her legs wrap them below his fat greasy chin and break his neck. The jailer scowled at her. Went to lift the lash.

“Not going to harm the Lord’s special one are you.” Arya offered him an inquiring smile. The confused look crossed his face before he lowered the lash. But the ugly sneer returned, and he stepped over to Lisa.

“Perhaps I’ll have some fun with this one then.” He leant over, lifted her by her dishevelled hair and licked across her face. “Sweet tender flesh that would cook so well.”

“You better get away from her,” Arya growled. “If she comes to any harm you will die with every single one of those instruments of torture inserted in your body.”

The sneer remained as he looked back over at Arya, but then something changed his expression, and he let Lisa’s hair go.

“The witch wants you both prepared. She wants them both cleaned.” He lifted the abandoned bucket off the floor and handed it to the guard. “Get more water brought here. I still worked to do.”

The jailer then rolled up his robe sleeves revealing more puss filled sores down his arms.

Arya took in a deep breath made new plans.


	17. The Lords gather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tries to learn what she can and make plans to stop the Lord and his witch. But will the villagers really rise up and help her.

Arya leaned forward as Lord Flowers commanded, scooping some of the thick meat and gravy onto a large silver spoon before taking it into her mouth. The succulent lamb tasted delicious as she chewed, allowing the juice to soak through the tough meat before she swallowed. Lord Flowers looked on with interest.  After she had finished the food, he pointed towards the goblet of wine and dutifully she took three mouthfuls while he observed; refraining from sampling any of the delicious feast spread out on the round the table he was seated at with three other so-called lords of the realm.

"A little paranoid aren't we Franklyn." It was one of the other three men at the table who spoke. He was sat opposite Lord Flowers, and already his thick, black beard was sporting various droppings of the food he'd been eating; seemingly not concerned about the etiquette of waiting for his host. "Though I must congratulate you on the quality of your tasters." He nodded towards Arya raising his eyebrows; his expression making it clear the sort of thoughts he was having. With a pug-nosed face and a deep scar across his forehead, Arya considered him the ugliest of all the nasty Lords around the table. Not that he seemed to care about anything anyone thought about him.

"And very obedient too." Lord Flowers grabbed Arya's ass underneath the thick wolf fur she was wearing. It was part of the preparation the witch had decided she needed. After her body was washed down, they clad her in a wolfs skin, tied around the waist with a thin strip of leather. The hood was in the shape of the upper jaw and head of the grey wolf that had been slaughtered for the outfit.  A thick brown leather collar was tightly affixed around Arya’s neck to which a chain could be attached if Lord Flowers so decreed.

Currently, that honour still went to his plaything for the day; who was cowering on the floor under the table and between the Lord’s legs.

"Good to see your little friend is also doing exactly as she is told." Lord Flowers addressed Arya as he nodded across the table. Lisa was one of the other two girls serving the guests. Their animal pelts had been fashioned into simpler dresses. Covering more than Arya’s did but still with enough gaps for any roaming hands to grab flesh. While the other girl Arya didn’t know, was not much older than Lisa, it didn't stop the wine guzzling Lords fawning over them and making of this lewd comments.

Arya was proud of how fearless Lisa was around such brutes, and how much help she’d already been as they tried to glean as much information as possible about what was going on. She hadn't seen the witch since being in the dungeon, and every time Arya was moved around the castle, she memorised the passageways and rooms. Not that it was a vast structure, with only four levels if she included what she assumed was the main bedrooms suites above the hall they were in.

One of the Lords demanded the wine be refilled. Lisa, seeing the earthenware jug was empty, carried it towards a set of tables at the side of the hall where all manner of wines and ales were laid out for guests.  Arya took the opportunity to take Lord Flower’s jug he’d already managed to nearly drain, while he tucked into his main meal of thick lamb and vegetable stew.

“Was there a message,” Arya whispered to the younger girl as they looked to swap the jugs for full ones. Other servants would come an take the empty ones away.

Lisa nodded. “It will be as you said.” Her voice was barely audible, and she kept glancing at the Lords. “Elsa has the plants. The Innkeeper will be ready.”

Arya was pleased. With so many people going to and from the village it had been easy to get messages through. Especially using Lisa, who most of the guards or castle staff ignored as she dashed between their legs. As long as she was there when called, even Lord Flowers seemed to forget about her.

They’d even managed to get word through to Myra in the cells below the castle. Telling her none of the prisoners should eat any of the night's food if it were offered.

“Stay as close as you can to me tonight,”  Arya said, “I’m going to need your help.”

Lisa’s hands started shaking with the weight of the jug she had to carry. “I’m scared.”

 Arya placed a hand on her bare arm. “You've been brilliant Lisa. We can do this. We can do it together. Everyone will be with us.”

Lisa nodded, and Arya hoped her words would come true. Lord Flowers had spent a lot of time telling Arya about all the things he was going to do with her after the sacrifices. There was even going to be a demonstration after the feast in his chambers as he used his current plaything for the last time. The witch had said it would fill him with tremendous energy for the night ahead.

“What are you to whispering about?” Lord Flowers growled, he then started laughing and waving his empty goblet. “Get yourself back over here girl.” Arya span around dutifully trotted back to the Lord.

“Taking a risk there aren't you Franklyn.” It was a ginger-haired Lord who spoke. Arya had heard him referred to as Lord James. Not that she could remember any James from her lessons when she was younger. He was clearly another imposter seeking to grab power after the great war. Lord James was gnawing vigorously on one of the pig's ribs soaking in the juicy fat and apple sauce. “If it wasn’t for the fact I can see this pig sat on the table I will be wondering what she'd be feeding us.”

The other lords laughed.

"I think everybody's heard what happened to Walder Frey." The ugly Lord put in.

“Well, it's all about taking advantage when you can.” Once more Lord Flowers hand reached up underneath Arya’s pelts and grabbed her behind.  “Like all women, not so tough when they're not being sneaky or don't have the advantage. And tonight this one will help produce the power to make us kings in southern Westeros. There will be no yoke of the Targaryen’s for us.” There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

“And what if they send the Dragon.” Lord James raised a concern that garnered more support from those around the table. Arya could see their bravado was superficial. They were still scared of what could happen to them.

“We have a Lord of light to protect us, and after tonight we’ll have something that can challenge whatever the bitch queen can throw at us. Or any Stark.” He pinched Arya's bare flesh. Her instinct was to ram her elbow into his throat before scooping a knife off the table and stabbing him in the eye. Instead, she bore the humiliation and went over another dozen different ways that she could fill the last moments of life with agonising pain.

“You keep speaking of this power Franklyn, but we've yet to see it. I thought we were going to see it tonight and it now you talk about the morning.” It was the Lord who hadn’t yet spoken. He was younger than the others, clean shaven and Arya though he was probably only just a few years older than she was.

“The power you shall see tonight would have been enough.” Lord Flowers growled as if annoyed at the thought of people questioning him. “But the Lord of Light has provided us with one of ancient blood who shall give birth to a new power. Do you not want to be masters in your own lands? Do you not want the lands of the south to be ours?” He grabbed Arya by the back of her neck, pressing her against the edge of the table as if to show off his gift from the gods.

“You know we agree with you Lord Flowers,” Lord James put in, “but we also know the power of the Targaryens. “We know what they have. Wasn’t the Lord of light recently on their side?”

“They failed to embrace the Lord of Light. The red witch came to me because the Lord of Light is angry and is looking for new followers who in time will rise and take these lands. Lands that can be yours. Tonight, you will begin to see the power; by morning we will have our own counter to the dragon. A power we control.”

Letting go with Arya Lord Flowers grasped the newly filled mug of wine indicating the others should follow suit. All did so.

“To our new Kingdom and our new strength. The long winter will truly be over when we embrace the Lord of Light, and no more will we have to bow down to any other houses. No Lannister’s, Targaryen’s or Starks will rule over our castles and villages. No horse lords or seedless men will command our obedience.” He slammed his fist onto the table making everything jump before taking a deep drink of from the goblet.

There were growls of approval from the other Lords who also downed their drinks.

Arya was frustrated; she still didn't know what evil the witch was planning to conjure up at both the sacrifices and afterwards. But she knew it had to be stopped and it was going to be no good waiting for any help that might come. It was down to Arya Stark and if it was going to cost her life then so be.

 


	18. Night at the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end approaches. But Arya is in a tricky spot.

Arya tried to absorb everything unfolding in the castle courtyard. Each moment she evaluated the best time to strike but was wary of the witch and her actions. Not knowing any hidden powers the creature might have unnerved her.

The rest of the enemy Arya knew she could best. Lord Flowers would die soon enough, and any of the other Lords who dared stand against her. She expected many of the guards to crumple to the floor once the stew had taken effect, allowing the people of the town to overpower them. Then there was the red-robed creature who was dancing and singing between the bonfires while the Lords and their attendants were taking their seats in a makeshift stand to allow them to have a prime position at the atrocious spectacle which was to unfold. Copious amounts of wine and food were brought by servants as they discussed their plans for future conquests once Lord Flowers had unveiled the power he would have to control.

The reluctant crowd, drawn from the town, had already assembled off to her right. They were held back below the raised section of the courtyard where the bonfires were set ready for the night’s events. Numerous torches and lanterns adorned the walls of the courtyard illuminating the macabre scene. Lord Flowers had hired musicians to add atmosphere, as though he expected the crowd to suddenly begin joyous revelry once they started up. There was a juggler and jester moving through crowds trying to tempt some of the younger ones to take part.

No-one was paying them any attention.

Arya was no longer just Lord Flowers taster any more.  She was the new pet chained to his wrist via the leather collar around her neck. He’d delighted in demonstrating how, when he pulled hard, it would tighten to restrict her breathing and subdue any efforts to withstand him. Arya was able to loosen the collar a little with her fingers, but there would be little she could do if he pulled it so tight it began choking her to death.

However, this was nothing to the sick demonstration during the afternoon as he’d satiated his appetites on his previous plaything. The witch had watched on, encouraging the Lord to slit the throat of his victim when he’d finished so she could capture the blood in a large silver goblet. Tasting it, the witch had offered some to the Lord who drank it with a fire in his eyes as he listened to her promises of the power to come. Lord Flowers roared like some primordial beast and would have dragged Arya onto the blood-soaked bed had not the witch calmed him. Telling him to be patient and await the right time.

Arya had been bound so tightly she’d began to question her plans to make everything right. Had Lord Flowers not been restrained by the soothing words of the witch Arya knew it would have been difficult for her to fight back. Difficult, though not impossible.

She’d only been released from the bondage once the old crone had left, as though the witch knew consequences if Arya was free in a room with both the Lord and her.  As Arya was led away, she’d looked upon the pale, lifeless body of an innocent victim and vowed the vengeance would be swift.

“Ah, here they come.” Lord Flowers boomed and rose from his ornate chair at the centre of the stand. The movement tightened the strap once more as Arya tried to remain knelt on the floor.

She and the rest of the Lords looked towards one of the entrances of the castle keep seeing guards leading out the prisoners chosen for the sacrifice. Arya screwed up her eyes. Straining to confirm Myra was present, and also to see if the potion had any effect the guards yet. If Elsa had put in the stew, then Arya was convinced some of the guards would have both eaten it and been affected by now.  But she couldn’t see any of them showing any signs of weakness. If they didn’t soon, she’d have to act anyway.

“Is this really necessary Franklyn.” It was Lord James shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the procession of prisoners was led across the courtyard and up onto the raised area to the bonfires.

“If we want a power to match that of our enemies then it must be so.” Lord Flowers growled. “These are criminals, murderers and thieves. They deserve to die and by doing so will go on to greater glory as they are embraced by the Lord of Light for their sacrifice. In fact, this is a favour to those who have offered nothing all their lives. They should be grateful to have an end too good for most of them.” The Lord was rambling and collapsed in his chair. The day of drinking was heavy on his breath, and even on his clothes from where copious amounts had been spilt.

“Not a pleasant way to go.” Lord James muttered.

“Are there any good ways to die.” The ginger Lord laughed as still gnawed on food as if he hadn’t stopped doing so all day.

“Underneath a trio of whores from across the sea.” The other Lord chipped in causing more raucous laughter. It made Arya sick to hear them speak so lightly when they were about to witness innocent people burned to death. She wanted to scream out that they weren’t murders or thieves, just people caught up in the Lord’s thirst for power.

As the prisoners were led to the bonfires, they each had two guards to tie them to the posts. Among them, the witch moved with swirled and graceful swoops which still belied the hideous complexion. The music had changed to the simple drum beat of a single large drum accompanying the witch’s calls as she sang words and verses in honour of the Lord of Light.

Arya rechecked the state of the guards. She could see Elsa and the Innkeeper ladling generous portions of the stew into the bowls that were being handed out to the soldiers and the guests. The potion should have had them slumping to the floor passed out, but there seemed to be no effect.

 It hadn’t worked.

Her already precarious plan was going badly wrong.

Lisa caught her eye. She’d been fetching food and wine to the stand for both the Lords and privileged guests from the town and the land around. Traitors to the people hoping to curry the favour of Lord Flowers with no regard to the cost of others. Arya saw one of those who’d come to the Inn to give her up.

There was a questioning look on Lisa’s face.

“Soon.” Arya mouthed silently.

The younger girl gave a brief smile before bowing her head. Arya knew Lisa would be nervous and hoped she’d been able to hold it together long enough to be of help, or it would be yet another part of her plan to unravel.

As the last of the prisoners were tied to the stakes, Arya knew she couldn’t wait any longer for the potion to take effect.

It was then one of the Lords threw up over the servant in front of him.

At first, there was a wave of laughter from those sat waiting to watch their nights sacrifice unfold. Arya saw one of the guards at the line of the onlookers drop to his knees and vomit on the ground in front of him.

A second bent double clutching his stomach.

Somehow Elsa had messed up the potion. But it was enough.

It was Arya’s time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've completed the rest of the scenes so this should all wrap up on Sunday night with a couple of scenes over the next few days. Hope you like


	19. Arya Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time for action

“What is this.” Lord Flowers rose again as he sensed something was wrong.

Another of the villagers in the stand began to be violently sick, his stinking grey vomit splashing on the wooden floor so near Arya she had to control her own body and prevent convulsing.

It was also the perfect distraction. Leaping up from Arya’s position at his knees she delivered a firm elbow to the Lord’s groin. It was powerful enough to bend the large man over. However, he was wearing enough tough clothing to protect him from a significant injury.

“Why you.”

Array didn’t let him speak. With his head bowed and exposed she hauled the chain attached to his wrist and wrapped it around his neck with two quick pulls. Reacting faster than she would have thought he was capable of, Lord Flowers lashed out with his free arm gripping the chain that was between him and Arya’s collar. As she tightened the chain around his neck, he managed to pull hard enough for the leather collar to bite so tightly into her windpipe she began to choke.

Her initial instinct demanded she relieved the pressure on her throat, allowing her to breathe. But Arya knew it would mean easing up on Lord Flowers, giving him the opportunity to get free. Instead, she used the last air in her lungs to haul even tighter on his chain, satisfied with the strangled cry.

As soon as his body went limp Arya let him go, collapsed to her knees, and tried to force her fingers between the leather colour and her flesh in a bid to breathe. The collar has been pulled so tight there was barely any room.

“Let me help.” It was Lisa.

Looking up Arya saw the girl was carrying a small dagger. Turning her back she indicated to the leather on her neck and Lisa went to work. There was a sharp pain as the young girl drew blood.

“Sorry,” Lisa mumbled, but Arya was so close to passing out she didn’t care.

A few moments later there was enough slack for Arya to force her fingers inside the collar and give her enough of a gap to gasp down precious air.  A few moments later the leather fell away, and she held her hand up in thanks.

A shrill cry pierced the night, drowning out the sounds of ill the soldiers and panicking dignitaries on the stand.

“The Witch.” Lisa pointed towards the bonfire. “She has fire in her hands.”

Her throat still burning with pain Arya turned her head to see the witch standing in the centre of the bonfires with arms outstretched and hands consumed with a green flame. It reached to her elbows and yet the cloak she wore seemed impervious to the fire. The prisoners, including Myra, tied to their stakes were screaming for someone to help them or to their gods for mercy.

“Lisa cut them free.” Arya could barely make herself heard her voice was so hoarse, but Lisa seemed to understand as she looked at those crying in terror as the witch passed among them. Arya hoped Lisa’s nimbleness would allow her to move among the panicking people without being hindered.

As the girl sprinted off, Arya took stock of her own predicament. Lord Flowers was collapsed on the ground, but she was sure he was recovering. Around the stand, the other Lords were struggled to barge passed vomiting soldiers and townsfolk. Her biggest problem was still being tied to the Lord.

A soldier pushed through the confusion towards her. He looked on aghast at Lord Flowers sprawled on the floor with a purple face. He turned his attention to Arya, stepping towards her. She judged the distance and with only a short amount of free chain the soldier was too far away from her to attack.

“Are you responsible for this?” He pointed his sword towards Arya’s face.

She shook her head and indicated he’d been sick. The squat man took another step. Arya made as if she was going to help Lord Flowers.

Another step.

Arya delivered a vicious punch to the soldiers exposed neck, and as soon as her hand dropped down, she took the wrist of his sword arm and bent it so far back the weapon fell from his hand. All part of the same move Arya grabbed the hilt before it could drop to the floor before delivering a kick to his stomach. While not as powerful as she would have liked it was enough to send him sprawling back into the rest of the bewildered crowd.

There was a tug on her collar. It tightened again as the chain was pulled. Lord Flowers was yanking on it as he attempted to climb up using wooden seats around him. The arm the chain was attached to was exposed.

Lord Flowers never saw the blow that separated his hand from the rest of his body. Arya pulled the chain away from the bloody stump and wrapped it around her left arm as she hefted the short sword in her right. The Lord cried out and toppled over again. This time he stopped moving, and though Arya wasn’t sure if he were dead the blood pumping from his wound ensured he soon would be.

Arya turned to see if the soldier was going to challenge her again, but apparently, the sight of a stark clad in a full wolf pelt brandishing a weapon while tossing away a recently dismembered hand was not something the soldiers wanted to get involved in. For the most part, everyone was scrambling away and desperately trying to keep their footing on the vomit-strewn wooden planks.

Arya nimbly leapt down the wooden steps past them before making a higher jump over the sides. As she landed on the grass, Arya once again assessed the situation.

Over towards the townsfolk, there were signs of fighting as a group of them looked to overpower the remaining soldiers. However, being unarmed and with not all the soldiers having been taken by the vomiting their fight was a desperate one. Over at the food serving table, Elsa and the Innkeeper had tipped the remains of the hot stew in the cauldron over two guards who’d approached them. Elsa then lifted a heavy iron ladle and smashed one of them on the helmet as he tried to rise.

A burst of green flame caught Arya’s eye.

The witch had launched it from her hands towards one of the bonfires. The shouts of alarm and pleading to be set free from the old woman tied to the wooden pole in the centre were replaced by her screams of terror and agony as the woodpile erupted into flame around her. Looking for Lisa Arya saw she was at the nearest the bonfire, already having leapt on the wood and was hacking the male prisoner free.

The witch hadn’t noticed Lisa yet.

If she did, then the young girl would be helpless.

And it was Arya who’d sent her down there.

 


	20. Duelling the witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our plucky Stark goes up against magic. Surely she can't have a chance again such a thing?

Screaming to attract the witch’s attention Arya raised the bloody short sword above her head as she charged across the grass towards the foul creature. It was hardly the sort of attack she’d been trained for, but as the evil crone was about to send another stream of fire into the next bonfire, Arya knew she had to improvise. The soldiers and townsfolk to her right were still engaged in a desperate struggle. While the sight of the witch sprouting magical flames was spreading panic among everyone, it was the poorly armed townsfolk were faring the worse, and if they didn’t gain an advantage soon, Arya could imagine them turning and running for their lives. Not that she could blame them.

Her own charge was suicidal.

The witch, attracted to Arya’s cry, directed her flame towards her. Correctly anticipating the reaction, Arya tucked herself into a ball and rolled off to the left as the green fire scorched the earth where she would have been. Still some ten feet from the witch, Arya tried to judge the next attack. Lisa had freed the first man, who’d fled in panic after his ropes were cut when Arya would have hoped he might have helped her.

Bouncing off the wooden piles, the young girl powered towards the next bonfire where Myra was struggling to try and free herself from the bonds.

“What have you done.” The witch, having seen the chaos on the stand where everyone was fleeing the sick and the stricken Lord, screamed with rage and brought both arms in front of her to launch another assault. As the green flames flickered, Arya sprinted around to her left between the first burning bonfire, whose victim had been silenced as his body was engulfed, and the witch. Then she abruptly stopped and rolled back the way she’d come allowing the green fire to flash past her and explode against the already burning bonfire. Scorched wood and clods of earth exploded into the air. The blackened remains of the sacrificed man disintegrated.

Arya closed the gap as the witch tried to recover herself from her powerful attack. As the green fire began to form on her hands once more, Arya launched into a fierce overhead swing seeing the witch had no apparent means of defence.

Except for the flames.

The witch raised her hands, and as the blade reached the green fire, she was able to catch and stop the weapon without causing her any harm.

Arya pulled back, looking to strike again only to see a shattered blade where the witch had touched it. Regardless she used her speed to swivel and thrust towards the creatures exposed body with what remained. This time it struck home, but another glow of sickly green light erupted from the creature’s stomach, and while the witch was clearly injured as her face contorted in pain for a brief moment, Arya found herself holding only the hilt.

The creature recomposed herself and smiled.

“I will have your blood Arya Stark of Winterfell.” The witch came at Arya with both hands glowing. Moments before being touched, she rolled underneath the grasping hands, and as she rose Arya delivered a kick t the witch’s waist powerful enough send the creature stumbling back off balance and giving Arya a few moments to gather herself.

Panting as she tried to decide her next move Arya saw Lisa had freed Myra, who’d taken the knife and was already working on the next bound victim while Lisa had moved closer to Arya. However, the girl was frozen to the spot, terrified by the spectacle of the witch and her magic.

 Arya dashed across the few yards towards Lisa and grabbed the young girl by the shoulders.

“Get away from here. You’ve done all you can.” Arya pointed her towards the lower part of the courtyard where the struggle continued. “See if you can find Elsa.”

It still wasn’t going well for the townsfolk. Some had fled in terror, and though others had managed to overpower some of the soldiers and taken their weapons, the remainder realised they were desperately fighting for their lives. Arya could see Elsa and the Innkeeper back to back smashing at any enemies that came near them.

Lisa just stared at Ayra her eyes full of terror and Arya wasn’t sure if any of her words had got through. The witch gave a hideous squawk as she regained her equanimity and started after them.

“Just run Lisa,” Arya knew there was only one course of action she could take.  “I’ll try and lead the witch away.”

She pushed the girl towards the lower courtyard and charged the opposite way hoping the witch would ignore Lisa in the pursuit of a Stark.

Arya sprinted towards the nearest bonfire free of any prisoner and grabbed two club sized branches moments before another blast of green flame exploded into the wood pile. The force of the explosion had Arya tumbling backwards until she rolled onto her feet and headed towards the edge of the raised grass area. Recalling her earlier visit, Arya measured the distance in her mind between the last bonfire and the cliff edge to make sure she didn’t find herself running off into the darkness and plummeting to her death.

With the light fading the further she moved away from the main activity, Arya skidded to a halt just short of the drop. The sound of the river slapping against the rocks came from below, drowning out the crackling of wood as two of the bonfires burned a ghastly mix of orange and green flames. The first fire was burning low, the man’s corpse a blackened shell, but it looked to Arya as though the other prisoners had been rescued.

The hairs on the back of Arya’s neck tingled.

Instinct made her dive to her left.

There was a sensation of heat as fire whooshed by her.

Turning, she faced the witch who seemed to be half floating across the grass towards her. The flame still engulfed her fists, but it was flickering, and Arya hoped it meant her power was fading.

Further back the townsfolk were scattering or being captured. It appeared one of the Lords had rallied some of the soldiers and called upon his own handful of guards to make the difference. Knowing she could only deal with one crisis at a time Arya hefted the wooden branches and took a deep breath.  Whatever happened she was determined to rid Westeros of this red witch.

Another shaft of fire.

Arya dodged again.

This time spinning right around before hurling one of the branches as a makeshift spear. The witch swatted it aside, but Arya saw the magic was spluttering in and out of existence. Her enemy hesitated, as though she was going to launch again, before moving forward as she tried to close the gap.

Taking the remaining branch in both hands, Arya leapt forward swinging her weapon towards the witch’s head. The creature raised its arm and defended the blow. Only just managing to pull her branch aside Arya saw the end of the branch was burned.

The green fire continued to diminish.

Weaving back and forth Arya swung at the red witch’s head. Again, the blow was blocked. The witch pushed her hand towards Arya when they were close. The fire burnt through the thick wolf fur and seared against her shoulders and upper arm. Arya broke off, flipping backwards, just avoiding the edge of the cliff. Her branch was gone, but she the power of the witch had faded to small green sparks on her hands.

Pressing her palms together the witch cursed and uttered a new spell. The green light grew slightly, and she swooped towards Arya.

Ducking below reaching arms of the witch Arya attempted to throw the creature off balance as her own bare feet danced on the edge of the cliff. The witch pressed forward. Arya went low again but she was prepared and while all the witch was able to do was grasp the front of the wolf tunic the green fire burnt through.

Pain ripped into Arya as she felt burning residue scorch her stomach. Giving a roar of pure agony, she took hold of the witch’s cowl and yanked the creature towards the edge.

Arya thought she had the upper hand. The witch stumbled forward and lashed out at Arya with a screeching cry which seemed to stimulate a flourish of magic. Though the grabbing hands missed Arya the fire scorched her stomach again. An intense flare of flame forced Arya to her knees as she tried to prevent herself from passing out and she only avoided another blow by throwing herself backwards, precariously close to plunging over the cliff.

The red witch loomed over Arya, but the fire was gone.

Instead, a sleek obsidian dagger appeared in her hand with the clear intent to fall on her victim and plunge the blade into Arya’s stricken body.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	21. Is it all over?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End game

“Leave my friend alone.” A small voice screamed before its owner crashed into the side of the witch. It was a clumsy attack with a branch too large for young hands. Arya was astonished to see Lisa’s determined face as she assaulted the creature.

But it caught the witch by surprise as she was off balance.

The creature staggered, lost its footing and then tripped over Arya’s prone body. Pitching off the edge the red witch stretched out its arms in a final desperate act of survival, grabbing the small attacker. Only instead of arresting the witch’s fall both tumbled off the edge.

Ignoring her pain, Arya threw herself far enough over the cliff edge to snatch hold of Lisa. There was a massive jolt against Arya’s throbbing shoulder forcing her to cry out in agony and use every last ounce of strength she had to hold on to her friend. There was another screeching cry and the weight diminished. A final eruption of green fire scorched the side of the cliff before the witch smashed into the rocks. Moments later the river dowsed the fire and swept the broken body away.

“I’m slipping.” Lisa’s voice was full of panic.

“Hold on I’ve got you.” Arya tried to sound more confident than she was. “Can you grab the edge?”

There was a scrabbling from Lisa as she whimpered, and Arya could tell she was struggling. The problem for Arya was she lacked the strength now to pull the girl up. Lisa’s hand slipped. Could feel the terror coursing through the young girl and gave it everything she could to pull her up.

Finally, as the last of her strength gave out, Arya saw Lisa scrabbling onto the grass, her hands grasping any tufts to give her purchase until she was rolling safely away from the edge.

“Here lass let me help you with that.” Another arm came into view. Arya looked up to see Myra help the shaking girl to her feet. Lisa then threw herself into the older woman’s arms and began sobbing with relief and shock.

Lying face first Arya could just about turn her head to look at Myra.

“The others?” She didn’t know what else to say. Arya daren’t look back to see the carnage wrought by the remaining Lords and their men.

“They’ll be fine.” Myra winked. “Friends of yours came by.”

Arya felt a presence standing right over her. “You fucking laying down on the job while we save your fucking arse.” It hurt to laugh, but it was all Arya could do.

“Some new kind of fashion you’re wearing.” The head of a huge hammer was placed on the grass in her view. “Burnt wolf skin. Not sure it’ll catch on.”

“Fuck off Gendry and help me up.”

While her body was still wracked with pain Gendry and the Hound hauled her until Arya could at least stand with the former blacksmith’s assistance.

She looked down upon the courtyard where the fighting had ended. The soldiers had surrendered their weapons with the Innkeeper seemingly calling the shots while Elsa was directing some of the people to march the Lords down to the dungeon. She was expecting to see other soldiers that might have come with her friends. “You came alone?”

“Don’t need an army to squash a few fucking fake Lords.” The Hound spat. “While you were pissing about wrestling with an old woman we had to clean up your mess.”

“An old woman who shoots green fire.” Arya protested but she was so pleased to see the two of them it was hard to be mad, and her body ached so much she just wanted to sit down somewhere quiet and drink wine until she fell asleep.

“I’ll give you that.” The  Hound muttered.

“We got word heading to King’s Landing,”  Gendry said. “Jon said he thought you might be doing something stupid.”

“I had it under control,” Arya said.

“You were saved by a fucking child.” The Hound laughed as they started making their way to the central courtyard.

“When we got to the town, we could already hear the fighting.” Gendry continued. “Once we charged in the soldiers and Lords took one look at us and threw down their weapons. I only had to crush one of them. I think they assumed there would be an army with us.”

They passed the bonfires before reaching the steps and descending to where some of the townsfolk were dispersing. Elsa hurried over. Gently hugging Arya where she could and announcing her concern at Arya’s wounds.

“Aye, we need to get them seen to,” Myra said. Lisa moved into next to Arya both helping and using it as a chance to stay close.

“Thank you, Lisa.” Arya bent down to speak to the young girl. “That was really brave.”

“Not as brave as you,” Lisa whispered. “You fought her fire. I wanted to help but didn’t know what I could do. Then I saw you wanted to get her over the edge when she knocked you over. Thank you for not letting me go. That was really scary.”

Arya gave her a squeeze. “Good job it wasn’t one of these to oafs.” She indicated to the two men helping her walk. “They would have pulled me right over.”

Lisa gave a small giggle.

“What shall we do with the prisoners.” The Innkeeper strode over from where he had been standing guard over the bedraggled soldiers kneeling with their hands on their head. Interspersed among them were the visiting Lords and some of those townsfolk who had supported Lord Flowers.

“Put them in the cells,” Gendry commanded. The Innkeeper gave Arya a brief glance and seemed satisfied by her nod. “Send a raven to King Jon with word of who’s been involved.”

“We wanted no part of this.” Lord James shouted from his knelt position. “We were forced into it. We demand to be free.”

Arya broke away from the others and hobbled over to Lord James He almost had a hopeful look on his face before she delivered the most potent kick she could right into his balls. Despite her feet being bare, it was still powerful enough for the old man to collapse on the floor to the laughter of her friends.

“We didn’t face the Night King and his White Walkers just so scum like you could Lord it over the rest of the people.” Arya spat at the other two Lords who were now quivering on the floor. We fought them so the people could be free of terror. She looked up at the Innkeeper who had a broad smile on his face. “Take them away.”

Within a few minutes, the Lords and other prisoners were dragged away by some of the more feisty townsfolk who delighted in prodding them with some of the various everyday implements they’d been using as weapons.

“So is there anywhere we can get a drink?” The Hound muttered. “I mean proper ale and not the stuff lying around in this fucking shit hole of a keep.”

The Innkeeper, who had not gone with the prison escorts, gave a cough. “I might be able to find something suitable for men of our stature.  “He threw a little bow in with his gesture.”

“Donkey’s piss would be more suitable,” Gendry said before ducking out of the way of a weak fist the Hound aimed at his head.

“Well, we need to get Arya seen to before there can be any of that.” Myra clucked hovering around the small group. “But the Inn would be a good a place as any to deal with that. Elsa, can you help her? There are other things these other two louts can carry for me.” Myra then stepped up to Lisa. “And as for you my girl.” She then scooped up the child in her arms. “I can see you are exhausted and nearly out on your feet.”

Lisa didn’t object to being carried though Gendry did at having to haul crates of fresh vegetables Myra had found in the Keep she said should be turned into something decent to eat for the now free people. As the group made its way to the Inn, there were murmurs of gratitude from the townsfolk and slaps on the back when they were close enough, but many people were so tired after the night's events and the torments they had been through.

And by the time they’d reached the Inn and lain Arya on a soft bed to tend to her wounds she’d collapsed into a deep sleep.

 

 


	22. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrap of this story. Time for the good folks to move on. I hope you enjoy.

“But why can’t I come with you?” There was a vicious scowl on Lisa’s face as she stamped her foot on the wooden floor in frustration. “I can learn like you did.”

“Because your mom doesn’t want you to.” Arya ruffled the young girl's hair and could feel the amusement of the Hound and Gendry who were waiting for her while still enjoying the free hospitality being offered by the Inn. Despite the early hour, they’d both already wolfed down half a side of pork and two large tankards of ale.

“I can run away.” A second stamp of the foot was accompanied with a defiant look and folded arms.

Arya squatted down on her haunches so she could look up into Lisa’s face. There wasn’t just defiance in the girl’s eyes but sadness too at the thought of her new friend leaving. After everything Lisa had been through Arya could understand her emotions.  “Where we’re going is more dangerous than it was here. You were a great help Lisa, but I want you to be safe.”

“Is anywhere safe anymore?” A lone tear rolled down Lisa’s soft cheek.

Arya swallowed. While she wanted to tell Lisa Westeros was the safest it had ever been, she knew it was a lie. For King Jon, it was still such an effort to rebuild the lands shattered by the Night King. There were so few troops to protect the people. Too few resources to go around.

“Where your folks heading.” Gendry stepped away from the table he shared with the Hound and moved over next Arya as he wiped the froth from his mouth.

“Old town. Dad can get a job there. He’s good with letters. I’m learning to. But I want to learn to fight to. Like she can.” Lisa unfolded her arms and pointed Arya. “We might get attacked on the road again.”

Arya recalled how she’d come upon the family in the beginning. She looked at Gendry.

“We could get a few soldiers to go with them.” He shrugged. “Unless they could travel now.”

“He still won’t be well enough to travel for another week.” Myra walked into the bar area with Elsa. “And they haven’t enough money to replace their wagon the old soldiers confiscated off them and took up to the castle. Unless we can find it.”

“We can pay for what they need.” Arya looked at the Hound. “We’ll hire a couple of men. Plenty want the work.”

He spluttered out his drink. “Why the fuck are looking at me?”

“Because you've got the gold stupid.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“And watch your language.” Arya covered up Lisa’s ears as the Hound rose from his chair and strode over to them with a dark look on his face.”

“I’ll go too,” Elsa said. “And make sure they get there safely. I need to get away from here for a while.  I want to see more of the world.” She cast a hesitant look to her mother, but Myra only smiled back at her and nodded.

“You see.” Arya looked back at Lisa. “You’ll have friends for the road and Myra will help look after you and your Mum until you can go. And I’ve a friend in Oldtown you can leave a message with if you want to contact me. His name is Samwell Tarly. He’s always going to the Grand Library in the Citadel. Can you remember the name?”

“Samwell Tarly.” Lisa nodded. “I’ll miss you.”

Arya leaned forward and threw her arms around the young girl and choked back her own tears. Burying her head in Lisa’s soft hair, she whispered to the girl. “I’ll miss you too little one. I’ll come and visit you I promise. And when you’re stronger, we can get you a dance master like I had. I might even give you some training when I visit.”

“You promise?” Her small fingers clung to Arya’s hardened cloth jerkin. “You’ll really train me?”

“I promise.” When they broke the embrace, Arya saw the shining hope in Lisa’s eyes and knew she never wanted to let the girl down.

“We need to go.” The Hound said gruffly before he turned and stomped towards the exit of the Inn.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for us.” Myra gave Arya a hug as she gathered her belongings.

“Look after yourself,” Elsa said after doing the same. “I hope I can see you in Winterfell one day. It sounds such a wonderful place.”

“For fuck’s sake woman.” The Hound was holding the door open, Gendry laughed and made his way over, but not before getting his own hugs from the girls.

Outside, three horses waited patiently under the control of the Innkeepers stable boy. Arya was the last to mount as Myra and the others also stepped from the Inn to see them off. One or two townsfolk who noted their imminent departure gathered, offering their thanks as the three of them urged their mounts into motion.

Lisa ran up to Arya’s horse demanding she bent down for one last mini hug.

“See you soon.” Lisa wiped her eyes as she stepped back into the arms of Elsa.

“Don’t get all mushy on us now.” Gendry joked as they trotted towards the south gate of the town. “The news from Starfall is just as grim as what you faced here.”

“Don’t you worry about me.” Arya grinned at the other two trying to hide the surprising hurt she felt riding away. Despite having only been in the town for a short time, it had been enough for her to make good friends. Something she usually found hard to do and leaving was tougher than she ever imagined. While her side still hurt Myra had done a fantastic job treating her wounds, and Elsa and Lisa had waited on her hand and foot for the few days she had to recover.

But now there was work to do, and more evil to root out in Westeros.

[ Check out this teaser for the next adventure ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576175)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned I'm writing a follow up at the moment but it may have to change depending on who survives in these next weeks.


End file.
